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SC 



THE 



QUARTERLY REVIEW. 



VOL. 112. 



PDBUSHED IM :'*' 



JULY ^- OCTOBER, 181^=; 



L ONDON: 
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREICT. 

1862. 



10038 






Losnos ■ 

I'rinlcd iij ViiLUUt Cuovta ukI Soss, Sumrord Street, and Oiailiig Croii. 



CONTENTS 



OIC 



No. 223. 



Abt. Page 

I. — ^Memoirs of Sir Maro iBambard Bmnel, OWil Engineer, 
Vioe-President of tho Koyal Society, Correepouding 
Member of the Institute of France, &c. &c. By 
Richftrd Beamish, F.R.S. London, 1862 - - 1 

II. — 1. Smeex Arohnologioal Oolleotions, 1846-1861. 

2. The Seaboard and the Down. By an Old Vicar. 1860. 

3. Handbook for Travellera in Kent and Snosex. 1858. 89 

m. — Lives of the ArchbiBhops of Canterbury. By Walter 
Faiqohar Hook, D.D., Dean of Chichester. Vols. I. 
and 11. London, 1861-2 82 

IV. — 1. BegnlationB for the Yolnnteer Force, 1861. 

2. Constitution et Foissance Hilitaire de la ' France 
et de I'Angleterre. Lieut.-Col. Martin, S"* Imp. 
Lanciers. Spectateur Militaire. 1861. 

3. The Three Panics. Bichard Cobden, Esq., M.P. 
1862 110 

v. — T^igliwh Poetry from Dryden to Cowper - - - 146 

VI. — 1. International Exhibition, 1862. Official Catalogues : 
Industrial and Fine Arts Departments. — Illustrated 
Catalogue, Parts 1 — 6. 
2. History of the International Exhibition. By John 
Hollingshead 179 

Vll. — 1. Hawaii : the Past, Present, and Future of its 

Island - Kingdom ; an Historical Account of tho 

Sandwich Islands. By Manloy Hopkins, Hawaiian 

Consul-Goneral ; with a Preface by tho Bishop of 

'^p^ord. London, 1862. 

2, History of the Hawaiian or Sandwich Islands. By 

James Jackson Jarrea. Boston, 1817. 
S. The Ishmd World of the Pacific. By the Bev. H. 
T. Cheever. Glasgow. 

4. Life in the Sandwich Islands. By the Rev. H. T. 
Cheever. London, 1851 - - - - - 219 



IT COMTSMTfl. 

Art. Paga 

VIII. — 1. Bicentenary of the Bartholomew Ejectment in 
1862. St. James's Hall Addresses, by Eev. Robert 
Yaugban, D.D., Bev. John Btonghton, Alfred Booker, 
Esq., Rev. J. Edmond, D.D., and Ber. J. Spence, 
D.D. London, 1862. 

2. The Bicentenary, the Liberation Society, and to what 
do its Principles tend ? A Lecture. By the Bev. 
J. B. Clifford. London, 1862. 

3. Facts and Fictions of the Bicentenary. A Sketch 
from 1640 to 1662. By the Bev. T. Lathbury. 
Loudon, 1862. 

4. How did they get there? or, the Nonconformist 
!UiniBter8ofl662. By the Bev. J. Venables. London, 
1862. 

5. The Bicentenary Commemoration of 1662. A Lec- 
tnre. By the Bev. J. Bardsley. Cambridge, 1862. 

6. A Bay of Light cast npon St. Bartholomew's Day, 
1C62. London, 1862. 

7. Proceedings, principally in the Cotuity of Kent, in 
connection with the Parliament called in 1640. 
Edited by the Bev. E. B. Larking. Oamden Society. 
London, 1862 23G 



CONTENTS 

OF 

No. 224. 



Abt. Page 

I.— Les Mis&itblee. Par Victor Hugo. Bnaellee, 1862 - 271 
n. — The Platonic DiBlogaes for English Beaders. By 

William Whewell, D.D. 3 Vols. 1869-1861 - 306 

m. — 1. The Jonmal and CorrcBpondence of William Lord 

Auckland. By the Bight Hon. and EU^t Bov. the 

Bishop of Bath and Wells. Vols. Ill, and IV. 1862. 

2. The Private Diary of Bichard Dnke of Buckingham 

and Chandos. In 3 Vols. 1862 - - - - 347 

rV.— 1. CompMmcnt de L'CEnvre do 1830, Etablissemcnt, 
dans les Pays Transatlantiqnos. Bmxelles, 1860. 

2. Histoire du Commerce et de la Marine en Belgique. 
Par Ernest van Bn^ssel. Bmzelles, 1861. 

3. A Sketch of the History of Flemish Literature and 
its Celebrated Authors. By Octave Delepierre, LL.D. 
London. 1860. 

4. L'Avenir Indnstriel, Conmiercial, et Maritime do la 
Belgique. Par N. A. Henry, Consul - General. 
Brnxelles. 

5. Notes of an Agricultural Tour in Belgium, Holland, 
and the Bhine. By Eobert Scott Bum. London, 
1862. 

6. La Nationality de la Belgique, <fec. Par un Patrioto 
Beige. Bruxelles, 1859. 

7. La Belgique Ind^pendante. Par Jos. Boniface. 
Bruxelles, 1860. 

8. Bichard Cobden Boi des Beiges. Brnzelles, 1862. 

9. L'Oiganisation Politique, Judiciale, et Administrativo 
do la Belgique. Bruxolles, 1858. 

10. Annuaire de rindnstrio de la Beige. 1862. 

11. Beports by H. M. Secretanes of Embassy and Loga- 
tion on the Manufactures and Commerce of Uio 
Countries in which they reside, No. 5. 1862 - - 379 

V. — 1. L'Histoiro du Consulat et de I'Empire. Par M. A. 
Thiers. Tome xx., Livre ler. Paris, 1862. 
2. Les Misi^i-ables. Tome iii. Bruxelles, 1862 - - 410 

VT.— 1. Aids to Faith. Edited by William Thomson, D.D., 
Lord Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol. 1861. 
2. Boplies to ' Essays and Beviews.' 1862. 



IT OOHTENTa. 

Art. Page 

3. Seven Anawers to Soven Essays and Eeviews. By 
J. K. Griffiths. 1862. 

4. A Letter to the Right Eev. the Lord Bishop of 
Oxford, on the Defence of the ' Essays and Reviews.' 
By tho Eev. A. T. HoflseU. 1862. 

5. Inspiration and Interpretation. By the Eev. J. W. 
Bnrgon. 1861. 

6. Scepticism and the Church of England. By Lord 
Lindsay. 1861, 

7. Preface to Sennons on tho Beatitudes. By the Rov. 
G. Moherly, D.D. 

8- Tho Hevolation of GoA tho Probation of Man ; two 
Sermons preached before the University of Oxford. 
By tho Right Eev. the Loid Bishop of Oxford. 1861. 

9. Tracts for Priests and People. First Series, 1861. 
Second Series, 1862. 

10. Tho Philosophical Answer to the ' Essays and Re- 
views.* 1862. 

11. Charge of the Lord Bishop of Salisbnry. 18G1. 

12. Speech of E. Fhillimore, D.C.L., Q.C. 1862. 

13. Defence of Dr. Williams. By J. F. Stephen. 1862. 

14. Judgment on ' Essays and Eeviews.' 1862. 

15. Persecution for tho Word. By Rowland Williams, 
D.D. 1862. 

16. Observations on Pantheistic Principles. By W. H. 
Mill, D.D. 1861. 445 

VII. — 1. Narrative of the Rise and ProgrcsH of the Tacping 
Rebellion in China. By Commander Lindesay Brine, 
E.K., P.R.G.8. London, 1862. 

2. Five Months on tho Yang-tsze. By Thomas W. 
Blakiston, late Captain Royal Artillery. London, 
1862. 

3. Narrative of tho War with China in 1860. ByLicut.- 
Coloncl G. J. Wolseley. London, 1862. 

4. Tho London and China Telegraph, v. 4. 

5. The Church Mission Eecord, Oct. 1862 - - 500 

Vni.— 1. North America. By Anthony Trollopo. 2 Vols. 
London, 1862. 
^ 2. The South Vindicated. London, 18G2. 

/3. The Eccognition of the Southern Confederation. By 
J. Spence. London, 1862. 
4. Union, Disunion, and Reunion. London, 1862. 

5. Memoirs of Thomas Bewick. Newcastle and London, 
1860. 

6. The Life and Letters of Washington Irving. By 

hifi Nephew, P. Irving, 2 Vols. London, 1861 - 535 



THE 

QUARTERLY REVIEW, 



Art. I. — Memoirs of Sit Marc Isamhard Brunei^ Civil Engineer^ 
Vice-President of the Royal Society, Corresjioitdiny Member of 
tfie Institute of France, SfC. Sfc. By Richard Beamish, F.R.S. 
London, 1862. 

THE industry of England owes much to the foreigners who 
have from time to time become settled and naturalised 
amongst us. Dr. Percy has stated in his 'Metallurgy'* that 
we are indebted to German miners, introduced into England 
by the wisdom of Elizabeth, for the early development of our 
minei"al resources. It also appears that the Dutch were our 
principal instructors in civil and mechanical engineering ; drain- 
ing extensive marsh and fen lands along the east coast in the 
reign of James I., and erecting for us pumping-engines and 
mill-machinery of various kinds. Many of the Flemings, driven 
from their own country by the persecutions of the Duke of 
Alva, sought and found an asylum in England, bringing with 
them their skill in dyeing, cloth-working, and horticulture; 
while the thousands of French artizans who flocked into the 
kingdom on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes by Louis 
XIV. introduced the arts of manufacturing in glass, silk, velvet, 
lace, and cambric, which have since become established branches 
of industry, giving employment to large numbers of our popu- 
lation. 

The religious persecutions in Belgium and France not only 
banished from those countries free Protestant thought, but at 
the same time expelled the best industrial skill, and England 
eventually obtained the benefit of both. Those successive addi- 
tions to our population of men of independent convictions, 
trained in the arts of peace, served to enrich our blood and to 
elevate and strengthen our national character. Thus it lias 
happened that the love of political and religious liberty which 

• 'Metallargr,' by John Percy. M.D., F.R.S. London, 1861. In the first 
Tolnme — all that has yet been piibliBhed of this important work— Dr. Percy gives 
a full and scientific account of metallurgical processes generally, and of thv appli- 
cation of these to copper, zinc, and brass. Every page of it atTords proof of Dr. 
Percy's large experience, unwcnried research, and scrupnlons accuracy. The other 
metals, he tdls us, are to be treated in a second volume. 

VoL 112.— iVo. 22J. B we 



we have chcrislicd as a people, and the av^lum which we have! 
in all times provjdwl for fi-ce-miiidftl men of other Iniuls, have 
conti'ibiiU'd in no small degreo to the developraent of dial extra- 
ordinary industrial encrgry which su prominently chamcierisL's 
the Kutflaiid of the present day. Our mechanical proficiency, 
however, has boea a comparatively recem growth. Like many 
others uf our national qualities, it has come out suddenly and un- 
exjiectedlv. But, though late learners, we have been so apt that 
we have already <>utstrip|7i-d our teachers ; and there is searccljrM 
a bniDch of manufacture in which we have not come up to, U"" 
imleed we have not surpassed, the most advanced continental 
nations. 

The invention of the steam-engine, towards the end of last 
Century, had the effei-t of (fivini; an pxtranrdinnrv impKus to 
improvement, particularty in various branches of inin manu- ^ 
lacture ; and we began to exjwrt niacliuies, engines, andfl 
ironwork to I'rancc, Germany, and the Low Countries, whence " 
we had before imported them, Althnnjrh this great invention 
was |>erfected by \Vatl, inueli of the prplinnnary investigation 
in eonnertion with the subject bad iKtrn eoiwluclcd by emi- 
nent Fn-neh refugees : as by I)esau*;liers, tlie author of the 
well-known * Course of Experimental Philosophy,' and by 
Denis Papin, for some time Curator of the Royal ^ciety, 
whose many ingenious applications of steam-power prove 
bim to have been a person of great and original ability. Hut 
the most remarkable of tliese early inventors was unquestion- 
ably Thomas Savery — also said to have been a French irfugpe, 
thougli very liltlo is known of him jjtirsonally — wlio ii enttthn) 
to tho distinguishetl merit of having invented and constructed 
the first working steam-engine. Ail these men paved tlie way 
for Watt, who placed the co|X'sU^ine on tlie M'nrk nf which tlie 
distinguished Frenchmen had in a great measure laid tlie foun- 
dations. ^ 

.Many other men of eminence, descendants of the refugees, V 
might be nametl, who have from time to time added greatly 
to our scientiiic and productive n.'sourccs. Amongst namea 
which incidentally oceur to us are tliosi; of nullond tlie nptirian, 
aiKl I'ourdrinier the invLtitor of the jiaper-maklng machine. 
Passing over these, we come to the subject of tlie prewmt article, 
the lAst of tlie p'cat Frenchmen wboiii Knglan<l is proml to claim 
as her sons hy aihjption. although France may claim tliem by 
birtlu Driven from his own country by imlitical revolution, 
Brunei took refuge first in America imd subsequently in Fngland, _ 
After the lapse of centuries., our island is stdl found ofFeilng aH 
retmt to fugitives alike from imperial or democratic opprcsaion ; 

where 



I 



d 



itteU. 



wlicre they are lice to spcok, to write, to labour, and to InvL-Dt, 
in perfect iccurity. 

Many were tbe emigres who flocked over tti En^liuid at the 
outbre-ak of tlie great French Rcvolutiuii «f 1 78U, uud who found 
temporary refuge from the troubles of their unhappy country, 
maintaining themselves by teaching, by the practice of art, and 
In iither industrial pursuits. Of these. [Mrrhaps the most djstin- 
gnlshed was Marc Isambanl Brunei, who for the greater port of 
his life fallowed tbe profession of an engineer, Icayin^ behind 
him a sou as illustrious as himself, — Isainbard Kin^om Brunei, 
the engineer of the Great Western and other railways, the de- 
signer of the Great ICastcm steam-ship, and the architect of 
many im{>nrtant public works. 

It is said that there is in the true history of every life, if it 
could be dis<:-overed, a trace of the quality which is commonly 
called romance. N'or was this element by any means wanting? 
in the life of the elder Brunei, especially in its earlier sta|^>s. 
Mr. Beamish, bis friend and pupil, has been at tlie pains t/> 
embody the events of Brunei's clietjuered career in the interesting 
oamitive now before iis, from »liirh a very complete idea may 
be formed of the illustrious engineer's life and labours. 

Marc Isambard Brunei was bom on the S5tb of April, 1769, 
at the little village of Hacqueville, in Normandy. The place is 
1 araonjr ' the rasty fields of France,' — in the midst of 
of those bald, monotonous plains of corn-land, with scarcely 

bwlgc or tree within sight, the iretjuent repetition of whirh 
makes one wonder how the country vvex came to l>e called, 
OYen by its natives, 'la belle France.' Brunei's father was 
a respectable agriculturist, of narrow means but ancient family, 
holdinf^ the hereditary office of Maitre dei Postes of the 
district. And lhu<i it happene<l that the Brunelx naturally 
came to be myalists when the revolutionary periiMl arrived, 
iheir tnherit.incu lK>lng at stake. 

Marc Isambard was the second of two sons, and was early in- 
tended for the priesthood. When eight years old he was sent 
to schfX)! at the Collejje of Gisors, wliere he received the first 
rudiments of learning. But even at tlmt early age the in- 
stinirt of canstruction was strong within him. He wns much 
fuiidcr of tlif village rarp«mter's slioji tliau of sciiiKil ; and 
ooaxinir, entreaty, and punishment alike failed in making a 
bopt>ful scholar of him. His father tried solitary confinement, 
shutting him up in a room with some grim family jwrtrnits. 
The eyes of one of these seemed to follow the boy round the 
room, so that, unable to endure it longer, ho set a table against 
the wall, mounted it, and cut the eyes out. All repression 

u 2 proved 



I 



proved vain. The son's instinct was truer tlian tlio fatber's 
judgTQont. He continued to spend in tlitr C8r|>cuh;T's sliop the 
Iioiira he could sjmre i'nJin his tasks and his school. lie drow h 
lams and jihuis, and k'arnt Ui handle laoh, until his father was H 
almost ill dcs^mir. ' 

At eleven, young Brunei was sent to the ecctcsiaistical scminarj 
of St. \icaise at Houeo, his father still hojiin;; to secure luni for 
the church. But ihc hoy cnrric*! his strong love of mechanics 
with him. It is said tlint, one day, seeing a new tool exhii>ile<l In 
iL cutler's windi>w, he coveted it so nnich tliat he pawnt^d his haC 
to possess it. One advantage which he derived Irom the school 
at St. Nicaise was the instruction in drawin;; which he there 
ohtBiiied under a competent master. In his play hours he 
took delight io watching the ships along the quay, and one day 
his curiowty was excited by the sigrht of some lar^je iron-ca$tin»s ^ 
just landed from an Kn|;Iish ship. What were they':' How hailfl 
they been made? Where had they come from? His eager 
inouiriea were soon answered. Tliey were parts of a fire-enginn, 
inteiuled for the great Paris Waterworks ; the engim- was to 
pump water by the power of steam ; anil the castings had been 
made in Kngland, M'hcnce thev had just amve(h * England 1 ' 
exclaimed tbe boy ; *ah ! when I am a man, 1 will go and sea 
the countr>' where such jC^rand machines are made.' 

Ketumcil home, he proceeded with liis mechanical recreations, 
amongst otiier things making^ musical iustrumentii ol diO'erent 
sorts. It is even said that he then invented a nightcap-making 
machine, which is still used by the peasantry in tliat part of 
Normandy. The father, seeing his son cnpro&'ied by such pur 
suits, at length lost all i-:!pr of his succeeding to the panK-hiaJ 
cure for which he bad <lL";iincd btm. * Ah, mon cher Isambard, 
said he, 'si tu prends re partJ-Ia, tu vegcteraB toute ta vie.' At 
length it was flcteriniiiiHl tliat young Ilnitiel should cinalify him- 
self to enter the nai y. He returned to Kiiuen ti> study witli tltat 
object, and in 17Hii, at seventeen, he was nomijialc<l to a royal 
corvette us * voluntaire d'honncur.' While serving; in that nink^| 
be continued his mechanical pursuits ; rihI, nm4mgst 4tther^^ 
instruments, he then mmle a ipiadraiit in cIkuiv, which was so 
accurately constructed, that dunng his connexion with tlie navjc^l 
he required to use no other. ^| 

His ship having' been paid off in 1792, Brunei went to Paris 
in search of further employment. But the Revolution, wliicli^ 
was in full caxecr, renderet) tluit city n V(tv unsafe place foK^f 
so outspoken a royalist as Brunei. With the iueautionsness^^ 
of youth, he avowed and defended his opinions in tJie be.'ir- 
jng of many bystanders, on tlic very day that sentience was 

pronounced 



I 

I 
1 



d 



71ie BnauU. 



pronounced upou Louis XVI. Afterwards, in an aoj*ry con- 
tention with some ultm-republicau* in a cafo, be caJletl to his 
dog, * \"ii;ng, citorenl' tjcowliufj looks were turned upon him 
fruin all sides ; and he ust-d nrterwords [i> sav tliat his imprutlcni'C 
rm tlic occnsiun bad nrarlj cost him bia life. But tlu- aiually 
nxh remark of auotbiT of tite jKirlv bavin^ fur ibu moment 
direrted uttcntiou from UimsL'lf, be seisMid ibe opportunity of 
escaping bv a bnck-door, and flc<l from Pftris early next morning. 
The king was bchendcd; and a tlirill of horror passeil throu{jb 
vxery lovutisl bcaru At Hncquevilk', Brunei felt lie was not 
sofc in liis fatber's bouse. He took shelter for a time with M. 
Carpentier, the American Consul at Houen, and it was under 
his roof that he first met the young English lady who, after 
mauT trials and vicissitudes, eventually became his wife. 

Sophia Kini^om was then but sixteen years old, — l>euutiful, 
amiable, and aeconipUsbed, She was a native of Plymouth, 
wUmicp slie lind been sent by her friends to Rouen, for the pur- 
pose of perfecting: her knowledge of French ; and she was 
rmidtag at tlie Carpentiers' with tliat object. She had scarcely 
been a year in tlie country when the Kevolution broke out at 
l^ris, mid the mob in tlie provincial towns made baste to imi- 
latf, where thcv hail not already anticipated, the barbarities of 
the capiinl. Two young: lailies of Rouen were overheard playing 
a loynl ist air on their pianoforte, ^v^lpn the cry ' A la l.nntrrne V was 
nuscd, and they were dracged into the 5tre(?ts and murdered. It 
wos clear that Houen was no safe place for foreigners, and Miss 
Kin^ilom, like many others, prepared to leave it. She proposed Ut 
accompany a family alxiut to set out for the West Indies, and who 
wert? willing to take her umler their protection ; but an illness 
with wliirb sbe suddenly became seized prevented her from acconi- 
p^nylng; them, and she remained wiili M. Carjienticr to partici- 
pnte in the danffers and the sufferings of the Keign of Terror. 

It was nbout this time that Brunei arriveil at the house of his 
rehiti\e, when on attachment of the purest and Bti-ori;;pst kind at 
finer sprang; up between him and Miss Kingiloni. 'ITil* seclu>ion 
in which thev were cornprllnil to live furnished abundant o;)por- 
tunity for its cultivation ; and die perils of tlieir situation not 
intproiiabty sensed to quicken tlieir mutual sympathy, audinake 
them all the more <iear to each other. 

An outbreak of tbn mob look place. The royn'ists in vain 
rndeavnuml to meet it by resistance; they were over[Wwered by 
tbe toHS ettldttn, and the respectable iuliabitanti of the place 
barrioidetl themselves within doors. Meanwhile a column of the 
ti'Tniutinnists was on the march from Hrittnnv and Nonnandy 

Pttri* by way of Uouen, It was feared that the opportunity 

u'ould 






would \k taken by tlir inoh of ^vrrakin^ Ti^n^oancv tm aid 
of Hic inyal iiiliahitaiiU al' the plarc as had Uiki^ii jvirt in th( 
recciil pmceetiinas ; ajid as Uruin-l ivns oat* of these, he felt 
hh liic was in peril, and he determined to fly. M. Carpcntit 
advi«*il him to tfike ship for the United States ; ami lie pro- 
cure<), Uiuugh with difTicuIty, the requisiti; jinsspirt, In 
excitement of the moment, tlie j>a!>8]>ort was left bt^himl ; and il 
WBS only when llrmiel found himself on board tJie America 
ship 'Liberty ' that he discovered his loss, liis ready in^enuil 
and presence of mind enabled him to overcome the difiieultyj 
Proeuring thn loan of n fpIIow-|iiisseiifier*s |inss|iort, he cupiwl il 
with so mueb aceuiacy tliat, on its rxainiiiation by the captain of 
the republican frigate, by whom the '^Liberty' was overliauIe<L^ 
Brunei's forgery passed master, and he was allnwcd to proceedifl 
He Jandrd at New York in safety on the 6th September, 17'J3. 

Sup)iift ICIn^om, whom he wtis forced tu leave behind, was 
not so fortunate. When it liceame known that England bad 
enteref] into a coalition with the continental powers, English 
subjects on French soil, nf all ages an<l of both sejtt^s, were at once 
seized and imprisoned. Miss Kingdom, as the inmate of a Royalist^ 
familv, was doubly obnoxious to the Revolutionary autboritic^JH 
and she was amou^ the first captires. But as the onlinarv gnnts 
were alremly filled to overflowing, a convent was appiopriat»--it to 
receive the overplus ; and thither she wa^^ sent with many other 
prisoners, French and P^nglish. She lay confine<l there for nearly 
eight montlis, enduring much suffering and pri'vation. Her bed 
was of boards, with a billet of woofl for a pillow ; her principol 
food was coarse black bread, mixed with straw; and iier con- 
dition, especially during the early part of her conftnemrnt, was 
miserable in the extreme. The s>-mput1iy of her companions 
wat her only relief; and the gaoler's wife, taking pity on the 
friendless English girl,c«mt]'ibutetl, with the kind help of the nucH^ 
who were pennitt«l to visit the prison, to render her captivit^f 
h'iis intolerable than it otherwise must have liecn. Often tlurin^^ 
her imprisonment did she hear the death-roll call«l, ami see 
roni))inions whom shf! bad lenrnt to love home off to the guillo- 
tine, UJ'.til, hojie having l>i«rome extinct, she became almost weary 
of life, -.nd longed for the release of death. But the Reign of 
Terror dri-w to an emi ; and one morning in July, 171(4, to the 
surprise ol flie prisoners, the ctmrent doors were thniwn open, 
ami they wer.-? declared fn*e to depart wbe-Tcver they would. 
Obtaining a j)a^|)ort, Sophia Kingdom in a few weeks atYer took 
her leave of Rouen, and retume<l to her friends in England, wfa^H 
luul abrendy given her up for lost. ^1 

We return to the history of Brunei himself, with whom she 



] 



The Brunei, 



was crentually to be united. After a short «t»y in New York, 
siruitcoed in means, lie contrived, to make his way to Albany, 
whrre two of his feIIow-|Kissenf»ers by ^c American ship liad 
pr<K-p<'<lfil, for the purpose of oi^nnizin^ on the j»art ot a I'rcnch 
Cuitipanv thr survey of a large tract of land along the nxiriie 
of tliv HKir-k Kivpr, near Lake Ontario. Brunei's srrvicre wi-ra 
acceptefl an assifltant-mirveyor, iiml, accompanied by four Indi.'mB, 
ibc three I'Vcnchmen proceeded, upon their arduous but interest- 
ing expeilition. The country was wild and uncleared, and thH 
only inhabitants Brunei enconntered during the sur^'ey wero 
Indinnft, by some of whom he was long rememlH-rtMl. In the 
iut«rva]fl of his hilmtirs lie maile iNrcnsiimal visits Ut New York, 
and it was there that the plan of his block -machinery first 
ciecurre*! to him. He carried the idea back with him inti» the 
woo<l», where it otitcn mingled with his thoughts of Sophia King- 
dom far off in F.nglnnd. * My first tiiought of the bhick- 
inachiiUTy, ' lie once said, ' was at n dinner-])arty at Major-Gene- 
ral ILimtlton's in New \ork; my second, under an Americanl 
tree, when, one day that 1 was carving letters on its bark, the] 
torn of one of them reminded me of it, ami I thought, "Ah!. 
my block! so it must be!*' And what, do you tliink, wen; the 
Of course nnne nther llian S, K. I* 
lu-.ird of Miss Kingdom's eseajMr from 
prison, and wrote to her in liingland, ench)8ing a bright Itttic 
autograph miniature of himsell — for, amongst his various ac- 
compli iih in cnts, he was an excellent miniature-[)o inter — which' 
she lovingly pri-'!ier\«!. Thus, it wilt be seen, a jiowerfiilJ 
maguet was at work, dinnrting his tlioughts to England, andj 
blowly dmwing him thither, fiut his means were as yet ex- 
tremely limited, and some time must necessarily elapse before be 
ccald depart from the American shores. He even seems to bare 
had beJ'ore him the prospect of certain success in America, if he 
coulil have freed himself from the afTeetion which governed him. 
Among his labours in the Uniti'd States may be mentioned his 
survey of a canal piojcctcfl to unite the Hudson with Lake 
Champlain. He also promulg.tte<l I'arious plans for Improving 
the navigation of rivers, and freeing their channels from rocks 
and imbeddci! trees. He d<'stgni'd seveml public buildings, one 
of his most ambitious plans being that fur the Cupitol at Wash- 
ington, which was reji'Cted as ttto costlv. He was more successful 
with his design of the Park Theatre at New York, which was 
accepted, and the hnilding was erected, Brunei afterwards lend- 
ing his aid in contriving some of the scenic arrangements of the 
hoose. He was next appointctt chief engineer for the city of 
New York, in which capacity he superintended the erection of a 

canauii 



letters I was (fitting ? 
By this time he had 



cannon fuondry, where be Introduced many novel and ingenious 
contrivances for ca&titig and boring guns. He alsi* supnlicU 
ilcsigna lor improving the fortifications of the barbcmr of \cw 
York, liy ihc erec-tion of works at Statea Island and Long Uland. 
It iis, lunvevcr^ stated hy his biographer that Brunei was not vcrj* 
liberalK* paid for his work; and he accordingly felt but little 
Inducement to remain in the country, ile finally left \cw \<>rk 
in January, 179^, and landed at Falmoutli in the following 
March. There he again tnct Sophia Kingdom, wh(> had remained 
faithful to him during his aix long ycai's of cxUc; and the pair 
were shortly after united for life. 

Some might consider marriage, under the circumstances, to 
have been a bf>ld, perhajjs an imprudent step; for neither po»- 
sessotl any groat store of means for future hou&ekeepiug. Both, 
however, had full faith in each other, whiUt Bruuel had in him 
plenty of inventive industrv', and boundless capacity for work. 
Indccfl he ha«l brought many of his inventions to England with 
him, which he proceeihtd to bring out. The first was for a dupli- 
cate writing and drawing machine, which he |mtcntcd. The nest 
was a marhine for twisting cotton thread and forming it into 
hails ; but neglecting to protect this by a palent^ — perlia|)s unable 
to romniand tlit; rmiiiKite means of doing »o — Brunei di-rivcd no 
benefit from the Invc-ntion, lluiugh It was generally :ulopte<l by 
the thread manufacturers. His next patent w.is of a maclune for 
'trimmings and borders for muslins, lawns, and cambrics,* which 
originated iu the suggestion of a lady friend that he should 
invent a means of relieving scamstreBS/'S from the wc«ris«>miT em- 
ployment of hrmming and stitdiing. Titis "machine, howt-ver, did 
not romr into ustr ; and it has lirfii tbrown into the sliadu by 
the numerous eewtiig-inachines which liavc recently been invented. 
The contrivance of such a process b}* Brunei, however, at so early 
a period aflbrds an indication of his readiness to turn his inven- 
tive faculty to account in any direction tlint pn^smitetl itself. 
Another of his contrivaucvs, Ingenious though ufii-li;ss, was a 
:nachimr to enable fccble-liandeil canl-ptavt^'s to shuHIe a |iack 
of cards by merely putting them Into a box. and turning a 
handle. 

His famous block-machinery formed the subject of his next 
patent, and thi; result was of a more useful and profitable cha- 
racter. The number of blocks or pulleys cm]iloyed in tlic rigging 
of ships, for the purpose of raising and lowering the sails, masts, 
and vards, was then so great, that they formed the subject of an 
important branch oi manufacture. An idea may be formed of the 
numl>er required fur the Royal navy alone, from the fact that a 
ship of 74 guns rLi|uirefl to be provided with no fewer than 1400 

hlocka 



I 



\ 



I 



The BruneU. 9 

blocks of various sizes. The sheaved blocks used for the running 
rigging consisted of the shell, within which one or more sheaves 
revolved, and the pins which fastened the sheaves to the shell. 
The fabrication of these articles, though apparently simple, was 
in reality attended with much difficulty. Every part had to be 
fashioned with great accuracy and precision to ensure the easy 
working of the block when put together, as any hitch in the 
process of raising or lowering the sails might, on certain 
emergencies, lead to the most serious disaster. Indeed, it be- 
came clear that hand-work was not to be relied on in manufac- 
turing these articles, and efforts were early made to produce them 
by means of mechanism of the most perfect kind that could be 
devised. In 1781 Mr. Taylor, of Southampton, set up a 
large establishment on the river Itchen for their manufacture, 
after a patent of his own ; and on the expiry of his contract the 
Government determined to establish works of their own in 
Portsmouth Dockyard, for the purpose at the same time of se- 
curing greater economy and of being independent of individual 
makers in the supply of an article of such importance in the 
equipment of ships. 

The circumstance of Mrs. Brunei's brother being Under- 
Secretary to the Navy Board, probably led Brunei in the first 
place to make offer of his invention to the Admiralty. We have 
seen that the subject had occupied his attention while in America ; 
but much remained to be done before his plans could be carried 
into practical effect He had the idea formed in his mind of 
how the thing was to be done ; but there is usually a wide interval 
between the first conception of an invention and its practical 
realisation. Brunei, though possessing a good knowledge of me- 
chanism, and capable of mastering the intricacies of any machine, 
was not himself a practical mechanic ; and it is probable 
that, but for the help of one possessing this qualification, his 
invention would have borne no practical fruits. At this stage 
he was so fortunate as to be inti'oduced to the late Henry 
Maudslay, inventor of the slide-rest, by which the whole 
conditions of practical mechanism have in our time become 
completely revolutionised. Maudslay then carried on his works 
in Margaret- street. Cavendish-square, where Brunei first called 
npon him. He brought first a drawing of one little piece 
of the proposed machine, and then another, until at the third 
visit Maudslay exclaimed, on looking at the drawing, * Ah ! 
I see what you are thinking of; you want machinery for 
making blocks.' At this Brunei became more communicative, 
and explained his intentions to the mechanic, who proceeded 

to 



to work out the inventor's conceptions and embody them in n 
practical mnchintr. 

In laOl Brunei liml his working- model readv for insp(*tiim l)y 
the Lords (if thf Admiralty, and the whole subjert was w;fiTr«l 
for intjuiry and n^port to Siv tianiuel IJt-ntUam, who then filled 
tlie ofiice of Iu5pector-Ueneral of Naval Works. Hit 8iunucl 
had liiniseU applied bis mind lor many years to the invention 
of tnacbincry for working in wood — such as sa wing-machines, 
planing-machim^^, and also block-making machines. Ilius the 
sjKHiifiratiun of <mc of his jKit^nt-K, taken out in 1793, clearly 
deMTibt-s a mnchine for shnpin;; t\w shells of the lilucks, in a 
manner similar to that afterwards ipecifieil hv Brnnel.* Beiitham 
bad even proceeded with the erection of a biiildinp for tlic pur- 
pose of makiii|r blocks at Portsmouth, the necessary steani-cu- 
^ine 1}ein^ alnradv providnl ; but on Brunei's uiiKlel bein^^ aliowii 
bim, with a sluf^ul.ir th-^p-i-*! of canilitur and fjem-n>sity he at once 
admitted its 8U|K-rioritv niul promised to recommend its a(h>ptton 
by the Admiralty. This he accordingly diiL, and Brunei was 
autlioriscd to prorf-wl with the construction of die requisite uia- 
chinery. This <M-ciijiied nearly six years, and the manufacture 
uf blocks by thc^ new prourss bej^nn in September, 1HU8. It was 
a long time for Brunei to u'uit for his rt;waril, aial he was put to 
much expense in tlie interval. The result id' Uu; iinpioved ma- 
chinery was, however, very siitisfactory. The blocks were better 
made, supplied witli much j^rearcr rapi«iitv, and exrculed at a 
^^rratly reduced cost. It was found that ten men, by the new 
mnehinery, L*ou1d |)erftirm the work which before batl ntjuirctl 
a hundred and ten men tn exe<rutt. and that it could turn nut in a 
year not fewer than 160,000 blocks of various kinds and sizes, 
worth 54,000/. 

The remunenitinn lo be paid to Brunei was also referred to 
Sir Samuel Hentliaui, who mlvi<ie<) dmt tlie Knvinffs of only one 
year's manufacture should be |»aid him ; and, after ciireful inquiry, 
the amount calcuiateil on tliis basis was 17,(iG3/. Bentham himself 
tcstifictl to tbc honesty of the accounts rendered by Brunei, as 
appears by the foilowinf; passage in his journal of Uie liith March, 
1810 ; — ' At work all dav on Brunei's accounts ; find that he; hav 
made llu>m out with every appenmnce of the fairest, most honour- 
able intentions ; iie has pven lumping sums tujainst himself, hut 
has taken no advantage without stating \K.'\ The amount awarded 

• II itt Xtvk tbc Wwk-macliiijerjr u erecieil does aot correspond with that 
described in S^uthsui's •pvcificalion ; but neither docs it rvKomblv tlint dcacribcil 
ia Bninert i ami ihis iJiows how mncb Draatl owed tti MaudiUy iu cnrrying his 
designs intA pnctical ezcetitiuu. 

t * Ufe of tiiir BaiDuel Ucnthtni.' Bj hb Widow. 1BC2. 

was 



d 



77« Brttwif. 



11 



ITU paid to Brunei .it different times, nml in addition a ^^nt of 
SOilO/. was afterwards iiiimIc by the Goyernmcnt to the enjjinccr 
nt n ]ieri(Ml when he was Inbourinff under serious pecuninry diffi- 
culties. But as the annual saving tii the nnlinn Iiy the ad()i>- 
t'ttm ui tlie block-innkin^ mnrhinery continued to incieotic, »nd 
exceetled in enrh year the wliole amount paid to hint, the reward 
must be ref^rde<l as altogether inadequate to the ralue of 
Brunei's ser\-iccs in perfecting bis invention and placing it at the 
■nricf of the nation. 

During the time that the block-marliinerv woa in progress, 
Brunei was busy with various other schemes, in the midst of 
which his only son was bom at Portsmouth on the 9th of April, 
lttl)6. The father continued to direct his attention principally 
Id wood-working machinery, taking out patents for sawing tim- 
ber, for cutting veneers, and for other improvements in saw-mills. 
He 5uppli(Hl ihe Ciovemment with designs for n saw-mill for 
the Ordnjuire department at Wixilwich. and afterwards pinnueil 
and suptTJmended the erection of the extensive machinery 
for sawing and dressing timber in the ship-building yard at 
Chatham. Besides designing, works for others, he alsii dr- 
BtgnEHl them for liimBelf, nnd diverged from the business itf ati 
engiiwer to enter on that of a manufartiirer. He* Ktartr-d two 
cniiri-rns nlM)iit this timi; — one an establishment for mannfac- 
turing shoes hv machiner;'. and another for sawing timber on 
a large scale ; but both proved unfortunate : for it must ite con- 
fesseti that, with all liis cleverness, Brunei did not possess the 
cnmmerrial faculty. Inventors are nut always the t»est manu- 
facturers, and it is |K)sstblr that their verv inventivciH'SS may 
stand in tlie way of their exercising that plodding application 
and persistency which are so necessary to success in business ; 
just as the thorough-bred steed is found to draw n loaded 
waggon far less efcctively than the humble but hard-working 
cart-horacf. 

Brutu-I's biographer alleges that ho invented his boot and shoe 
macliine from a iKitriotic motive, namely, to supply our soldiers 
^Vith those articles ' independent of the shoemaker's wax an<l 
ircad, and the ciJntractor's cupidity and knavery.' However 
tills may have hern, Brunei tried hard to secun* a large Govern- 
ment contract for his Ijoots and shoes. He took care, in the first 
place, to scenire a patent for tlic machinery, by means of which 
the upper leathers were to be fastened to the soles by * metallic 
pins or nails.' The machinery was, no doubt, very ingenious ; 
but, notwithstanding Mr. Beamisb's .isst-rtion that ' the sujieri- 
urity of till- slkws, as regnnhnl dumbiUty, finish, and cheapness, 
□nesampled,' we must take leave to express a doubt 

whether 



12 W Tlie BrumU. 

whether they were at all equal to shoes made in ihn onlinary 
manner. If they had been really sujierior, no (loverument 
oi>]X)5ttii)n cnulil possilily have prevented a frrncral demand 
for the article. Mr. Ucamish says, ' A larfje order was issued 
by tlic Govermncnt, nhirh was completctl witliiii the time 
btijmlated ; hut unfortunately for Brunei, when everything- was 
in full artivity, nnd the M'orkmen had heroine familiar with their 
work, the war had come to an untookcd-for termination ; the 
GoTcrnmeDt no lonf^r required the aid of the shoe-machinery; 
while Rrune), relying: too implicity on the moml obligation by 
whicli he believed the fiovcminent to lie Ixiiiiul, cuutiiiued to 
incur the hiuivy IJahilities cuanoirted with a ituum factory in full 
ujieratton. The conaecpiences were seriiius. A large stock of 
shoes, for which there rould be no demand, was accumulated, 
nml financinl diflicullics arose from which Brunei was unable to 
cniancipnte himself.' 

It is always easy for (iver-snng:uine pmjectors to lay the blame 
on Government. It is clejir that tlut Goveniment, in tliis rase, 
were under no moral or other ohlifrations to take shoes which 
they did not need. Ic is admittctl that the order actually given 
was eoniulete<l, and that die shoes delivered tu order were paid 
for, ami Brunei's busiue&i was either to loiik fur a market clse- 
wheit: for bis sujierior shoes, or to slop their produetion. If he 
went nu manufacturing shoes which jioUkIv would buy, that was 
his own fault, and not the fault of ' the Government' Rut the 
shoes were probably inferior to hand-made shoes, otherwise they 
would have driven the hitter out of the market. Brunei's |Hitcnt 
lias lon^ since expired, and his invention is now free to any 
capitalist who may chouse to take it up. But it is known to 
have bet;n a failure ; and other shoemakin^ machines which 
have bei^n invented as improvements upon it have failed like 
it. The last speculation of the kind was wound up but the 
other day in the Court of Bnnkruptcy. 

'Hie Battersea Saw-Mills were started in 1808, and in the 
hands of an cnerjjptie man of business would probably hare 
succeeded. But Brunei left the pecuniary arrangements to 
partners incompetent to manage them, and Ae concern fell into 
inextricable confusion. The calamities of the linn were brought 
to a climax bv a fire whirh broke out upon the premises in 
1314, and destroyed the f;reater part in two hours. Only the 
rijrht \\m\i of the building, nrntaininf; the &team-cn^inc, was 
saved. Brunei immctiiately sought for means to repair the loss, 
and the premlsi^s were partly rebuilt ; but his capital had been 
destroyed, and he liad Ix^sidcs incurred heavy debts. He sub- 
mitted his idToirs to a City liankerj who pronounced the arcimnts 

priT^Nired 



I 




The BnmA. 



IS 



prcpnred for him to be ' a most cxtraonliimrv jumble.' It appeaml 
thnt Bninttl hiul been in the practice of allowing a discount of 
20 ppr cent on the prices of llie work »lone at Battt-rsea, — a cir- 
cumstance which the banker held to be a striking prttof of the 
great depreciatioQ in tbc cretUt of the roncem. Mr. Brunei next 
resorted to the lawyers, whu appearwl only to inci-cnse his cm-' 
harrassmrnts. His City friend wrote to him, * If von have e%'er 
been ill in your life, and depended on medical advice, fall down 
air your knees, and bless God that jou had fewer doctors than 
you had lawyers about you. If that had not been the case, you 
might have l>Pen making sawmills on tlic other side of tlic Slys, 
or inventing a sUrambnat for nld Charon.' 

Tlie crisis in BrunL-l's alTaiis was rhwe at hand; in May, IR^l^ 
be was imprisoned for debt. Writing from the King's Bench 
Prison in July to bis friend Lord l^pcnccr, he said, * 1 have now 
been in this distressed situation ten weeks. 1 summoned ns much 
fortitude as jKKtsilile to support the mittrortune, hut I find I can 
mi longer ln'ar up against what in the eyes of the world miut 
appear a disgrace.' An appeal was maiK; lothe (lovemmcnt un Ills 
l)rhair, and a prant of SOOO/. was nia<le to him, in consideration 
principallv ol the savings which ctmtinued to be effected by ihe 
uso of bhi btuck-machinery. Hr was thus enabled, soon after he had 
written U> Lord Sprncer, to return to the exercise of liis calling. 

Tlie numenms luvi-ntions whieh Briint-l mntinurtl to make 
and to patent, afford abundant eviilenee of his ingenuity and 
his industry. Indeed, invention seems to have heen thr normal 
state of his mind ; it embraced a rery wide field, takini;' in 
such different subjects as stocking-knitting machines and steani- 
vngines, mctBllic paper, stiTreotypp printing, and the treadmil 
Id ISft be patented a tiicoteur or knitting-machine, by whici 
tlie whole of a stocking could hi* ma^le in one piece, but it never 
came int<» use. Another of his inventions was crystollizc<l tin- 
foil, wliich wns extensively used some thirty years since, for 
omrunenting teacaddies, urns, lamps^ and such like. BnmpI, 
however, derived little advantage from it, as the Invention was 
extensively pirated ; and while the jilvates actively pushed the 
sale ol' their gootls, Brunei's firm was contented to wait for 
customers, who did not come. He also devoted much study to 
tlie lmprt>vpmenl of steri"Otyj»e plates; hut other inventors shot 
■bead of him in this uit, and it does not appear tliat he did 
more In this line than secure an unprtKluclive |)atent. 

In the department of engineering he was alike busy. He 
designed a bridge over the Seine at Rouen, but, after long nogo- 
tiation, it was declined. He furnished an ingenious design of] 
a bridge over the Neva at St. Pctersljuigb, which was mucb^ 

admired ; , 



I 



admired ; but the Crar desired it to be communicated to the 
engineer that circumslances did nnt favour tliP rxecution of his 
pniifct, and that under the pressure of unforeseen and %'cry con- _ 
siderablc expenditure the imperial trca«ury could not commit itself ■ 
to so costly an enterprise. He was more fortunate in his desifrns 
of two suspension bridges proposed to be erected in the Isle of 
Bourbon, which were accepted by the French Government. The 
bridges were constructed in this country, but their cost when rnm- 
plcted — owing, It is nllegcd, to the misconduct of tbn aintractors 
— greatly exceeded tlu- original estimate : his biographer adds _ 
that ' the same htality which had already marred Brunei's com- I 
mercial prosperity was still found Ut cling to him.' In addition 
to these designs be gupplicil plans of swing-bridges at the 
Livur|MXi[ ndclis and uf a landing-stage ut tiir same place, thn 
design of a siiS}H*n&i cut-bridge ovct the Serpentine, sundry im- 
provements in the treadmill, and plans of machines for boring 
cannon at Amsterdam. 

Like most inventors of his time, Brunei engaged eagerly 
in projects for the iinpruvement of motive power. As enrlv 
as L8ltt be tiKfk out a jMittmt willi this ubject, proposing to 
employ the inclined hollow srrew for the purpose of forcing 
atmospheric air into a vessel oS cold water, from which it was to 
escape into an inverted funnel, thence to be conveyed through a 

Cipe to another vessel containing hot water. In this vend a 
ucket-whml wjis to revolve ; tlie air, conducted through the 
pijH- and rari-fied in its passage through tlie heated water, was to 
asceml beneath the buckets, and by its buoyancy gi^f motion lo 
the wheel, as water operates upon an ovcrshot-whtfel in Uu* nprn 
air. But it does ni>t ap|K.>ar that the invention was followed by 
any jwactical result. Hl- also turned his attention to the subject 
of steam navigation, and cxpt-riroented with a buut on the 
Thames fitted with a double-acting engine, \Mien br mad*; bis 
first voyage wit}i it to Margate, in 1814, he was threatened with 
personal violence by those connected with the sailing-packeta, 
and the landlord of the hotel at which he first applied even 
refused to provide him with a bed. Some years later, in 1822, 
he took out a patent for improvements in marine engines and in 
|Kiddle-w heels : but another scheme, which intei-c&teil him more 
tlian all, was the substitution of gas for steam in the produition 
of motive power. Science had no sooner made a discovery than 
Brunei followed it up by an invention ; and when the result 
of Mr. Faraday's experiments upon the liquefaction of )fnscs was 
communicati^d to the Koyal Society in 1823, our engineer im- 
mciltately proceeded to patent hi.<t invention of a carbonic acid 
gatf-engine. It had been established by the experiments referretl 



1 




77ie lirtauit. 



16 



to, Uiat this gas, when mlucnl to tlic liquoiifd state, cnulil again 
\ie vap<iri»'(l, ami an intouiK? pmxuro pr(Mluci>d liy Uic expriuH- 
ture ol' a vciy small amount uf liL-at. It tiierffore occurred to 
Brunei that, by the luo uf this li(|ucfied gas, pent up within an 
ingrniotisly contrlvcvl appnrnttis, n very powerful cnfTine might 
hv- priHlnred. If llir gas cuulil Iio litpic^fiet] and vitjiuriw^d 
shcriiiitpiv in tliL' working o( \hc uiachtno, it was Hr{;it<il thnt the 
new [lowor wuuUl be so cheap as complelclv In BU[«TswhT tho 
use of co;d, water, and steam in the production of motive power. 
TbL* most sanguine anticipations were cotertained as to the 
results; but, as Brunei himself once said of another person's in- 
rcntina, 'Ah I my friend, it is very easy to invtrnt a machine, 
but it is not so cisv to make it tPorU!'' The Adniirultv I'von 
went so far as to advance Itninct 200/. to aid iiim in uovkiiig 
out his machine bv the process of experiment. Orders for 
the engines were obtained from abroad, and the public waited 
atixitrusly for the advent of the new power. But in vain, .'\ltcr 
Dxi^rtinii^ his ingenuity for many years in trying to overeomo ihu 
BUK^nical ditHcultics of the problem, it was discovered that, 
tSier all, water was cheaper than sulphuric acid and carbonate 
of ammonia ; that steam was a more manageable power than 
carbonic acid gas; and thus 'the beautiful theory which had 
^ven so much promise, and been hailed as the harbinger of a 
Tiew rrn in prartical mechanies, was found inca|Mible uf realizing 
thoMt economic conditions bv which alone it could be rendereil 
eommerriallv \aliiable.' 

The last grand scheme of our eng'ineer, and, indeed, the 
crowning event of his life, though it afforded ample te«tim<»ny to 
his skill as an iinguicer, was alike unfortunate in its commercial 
nrsnits. We allude to dmt extraordinary enterprise, the excava- 
tion and cmutruction of the Thames Tunnel. 'I'he connexion of 
the counties, of Kent aud IlUsex by means of a roadway l)cneath 
the l>ed of the Tbamot had long formed the subject of spernla- 
tjffli among projectors, just as the formation of a railway tunnel 
angler the Straits of Dover does now. In 179S George D<Khl 
pr^jectefl a tunnel under the river between (iraveseml and Til- 
DDnTf the estimated roit of which was set at so low a figure as 
16,000/., but nobody seems to have believed Dodd, and his 
project fell to tho ground. This Dodd was one of the must 
tn^'nions Init unfortunate projectors of his day. He was the 
finrt tn inlrtMluce steam navigation nn the Tlmmes. He had a 
Tn*nl Rxj)rr!5sly hililt and titUnl nn the Clyde for the jiurjMjse, 
ami bniug'ht nmml to l^indon bv si>a. Hf! was the first cng^i- 
neer of Waterloo Bridge, though he was superseded in that office 
hy John Ronnie. Amidst his projects ]\c took to drinkingr* 

I>t!fame 



bemmc> embnirassed in hii circuuistanccg, nnct iras thrust br 
lamllonl into tin- strcift. He was cvemuiiUy brouirIU Ix-fore the 
Lord MnVfJT as n vngnuit, iind requested a* a farnur to be alloM-eil 
t() stay ill Giltsnur-street Compter, wliere he died. 

TliP subject o( a. tunnel under the Thames vras taiten up sad 
prosecute<) by another enjurinecr still vaovo inffcnious, and equally 
unfortunate in his cn<I — we mean TrcvetUick, the inventor of 
the IiKomotivc and high-pressuie steam-ongine. A Tunnel 
Ccimpany was formed in 18<.t2. for the purpose of excavating an 
underground toad between Kotherhithe and Limchouse, Mr. 
Vazie bping the projector, and Mr. Trovcthirk the enEineer. 
Severn! vears passed before the works wore begun ; but in ltM-)7 
the driftway was driven under the bed of the river for a distance 
of GfiS feel, when the roof broke in, and the workmen were 
'drowned out.' Clay in bags was thrown into the hole, .ind the 
leak was thus plugged; when tlie pumpiiig-enginn was set to 
work tlie water wai cleared out, and die driftway proceedwl. 
Another and another deluge from the river flooded the work, 
which was at length abamlniied after 165 feet more of tho 
drifting lind been exrnvntir«l, Tlie ojiininns of scientific inen 
wen* now sought fur; and amongst others Dr. Hutton, the innthe- 
uiaticiaii, and Mr. Jessop, the engineer, were appealed to. The 
(^inclusion tliey came to in the matter is worthy of being quoted^ 
for it has been fully borne out by the result. 'Though wo 
cannot presume,' they said, * l<i set limits to the ingenuity 
nf (itJier men, we must confess that nnder the circumstances, 
which lia\c lioen clearly represented to us, we consider tliat an 
mulergruuud ttuiiiel, w]iicb would be tuir/ui to the jmhttc and hene^ 
Jia'al to the adventurers^ is impracticable.* 

The subject was nevertlieless revived in 1816 by & Mr. 
HawkinK, wlio prumulgateil n scheme for cicarating the tnnneL 
Ilrunid was tniinediatety attracted ))v the novcltv, as well as 
perha)>s by the difficulty of the undertaking, anri his mind 
became occupied with the methods by means of which it could 
be carried into practical effect. While pondering tlie matter his 
attention was one day attracted by a piece of old timber lying; in 
the dockyard at Chatham, wliidi Itad been subject to the opera- 
tions of tliat great destroyer of subinerfied tlinlter, the Terttio 
vni'ttlif. On exnminiug the little inollu::c he fuuiHl its bend 
armed with a pair of strong shelK- valves ; and that with its prt>> 
boscis fixed In the wood, and acting as a centre-bit, the shell 
working likenn auger, it was thus cnablrd In bore its way with 
impunity. The mechanism of this insignificant sea-worm gnve 
Hrunel bis first idea oi the true method of excavating his tnnm!l, 
and to imitate its operations became for some time His chief 

study. 



I 



4 



The Bruneh. 



17 



study, la 1B18 he embodied the process in his spccificaUon nf a 
patent for * forming tunnels or driftways uudiTgrouud,* describing 
a machine of iron forming auger-like cells for tlie miners, afterwards 
calk'd ihe shield. I le proceeiled to develop liis idt^as witli refers 
enec t" the Thames Tunnel pntjcct, and by tlic Ix^irinning- of 1824 
■A suHicient number of jHTsons had been intcrestrd in the seheme 
to form a company, and it was shortly after launcheil before 
Cbc public. The estimated capital required for the work was 
SOOfOOO/., and nearly the whole sum was at once subscribed. 
Tbc Act was obtained in the ajurse of the same year, and 
Mr. Brunei was ap|>uintcd eng'ineer, at a salary of lOCH)/, a-ycar 
for three ycnrs, with tlie prosiwct of a reward of 10,000/. whrn 
the tunmrl was completed. Operations Mere begun early 
in 1826, by the sinking and construction of a shaft 50 feet 
in diameter and A'l feet high on the Kolhcrhithc side of the 
river. 

Among' the many able eugineors who were trained to difficult 
enterprises liy tlie exj)erience gained by them in the constnictiim 
of this fnmiidablc work, one of the most pmminent was the snn 
of the cjigincrc himsi'If, young Isarnh'trd Kingdom Brunei, who 
cntcntMi upon his duties as assistant to his fatlier when oidy nine- 
teen years of age. At fourteen he had been sent to the College of 
Caen, in France ; and after remaining there three years he had 
proceeded to the Lyceum of Henry IV. at Paris, where he spent 
'two vpnrs more. In 1822 he presented himM'lf for admisHinn to 
the Polytechnic Schrxil, hut was found iiielij^ible !n consPiiurncc 
of his ICngliah birth. After spending stnnt; time longer in 
France, enriching and storing his mind, he returned to Kngland, 
and was immediately employed on the difficult work wliich 
his fntiier liad by this time undertaken. 

After various incidents tlie shaft at Rotherhithe wns built and 
sunk to llie i>njper d<!pth. The pn«ress employed was highly 
ingenious, llie shaft, a cylinder of brlrk, was built c<^>mplete on 
the surface, fitted at bottom with a strong iron curb, and then, 
by uniformly excavating the ground underneath, it was slowly and 

idually sunk by its own \\-eight to the n^iuired depth. The 
uiist difliciilt jMiniif the o{K'mti<m was then begun — theilriving of 
the tunnel under the \m^\ i»f tint rivrr, huriznntally fioni tlirr tiotlom 
uf the sliaft. This was accompli»bed by nie:ms of the great 
shield, for want oi whicli, or of some similar machine, all 
previous excavations bad failctl. It will rea<lily l)e understood 
that the chief difllcutty in executing the work i-aiisisted, not lo 
mucli in the actual building of the tunnel, as in sup)i«>rtiiig the 
"giound on the face of tlie (>xeuvation until the p(>rm;ment brick- 
work could be erected. Tbc method by which this difficulty 

VoL 1X2.— No. 223. c WW 





I 



W.-18 c)Vurcom(! bv tlie engineer exlubitcd hia inventive capacity 
in its most strikinf^ light. 

"We have atrcadv stated tliat Brunei iMirrowcd liis iilea of tlie 
shield from the insignificnnt teredo navah's ; l»ut it would jjerbajw 
\k mure correct to ix>in|inre the instrument to a man, or number 
of mm, with It-'jjs, each witli a knt-e and ankle-joint, alternately 
stepping!: on in advance of the excavation, with iirins to steady 
the whole fabric, ami with a head to support the superincumbent 
earth, ond raise or lower it as circumstances might require. The ■ 
marhine was dividrd into twelve distinct parts, each of which " 
was wnniH-teiil to fulfil eitlier of tliese duties, tlie ports being so 
arranijod tliat they eould j>erf<irm the offices alternately, six of 
the divisions bcinf;^ employwl in supporting the ground, while 
the other six were making their progreM forward. The external 
dimensions of the shield were the same aa those of the tunnel, 
twenty-two feet tlirec inches in height and thirty-seven feel six 
Inches in width, occupying a s[»ace of alwut nine feet deep In 
advance of die brick-work. The twelve frames were eacli about 
tlirce feet wide, ranged side by side like so many volumes on the 
shelf of a libniry. Each of these was divi<l(xl again into three 
by strong iron bars, thus forming thirty-six cells or boxes, which 
were as separate as if each had bc«n a distinct drifting. 

The area of ground to be penetrated in front of the shield was 
BDpported and securetl by upwards of five hundred small hoard* 
termed polings pointc<l with iron pUites and shod with screws 
three fcrt in advance of the work. These polings held up a 
surfalY^ of about right hundred s<juarc feet, over a large portitm 
of which the influence of die tide was distinctly felt. Tlie 
advantage of dividing the front of the shield into small cells by 
the arrangement above indicated was, thai the large' front area 
of ground, to secure which as one surface wmtid have been im- 
possible^ was thus divided into ihirty-six faces, each of small 
area, which were worked down an<l secured sepnrutciv by one or 
two men ; and when, from unusual looseness of the ground in 
any of the rcspflctive faces, danger was apprehended, it was easy, 
by introducing boards between the frames, to cut offcommuni- 
caticmwitli the contiguous cells; and if any ground made its way 
into the Uixes, then it was jiossible to stop and block up the run 
with In'irlvbjils and stniw. In shi)rt, the shieltl might be eom- 
jwired 111 a luiriwml.'il (i>nerdnui, of which the polings niu) the 
iron stars supjuirting the ground might be reganled as tlie ^beet 
ptlca.* The whole weight of the shield was about two hundred 



Pur II cDtniilctv iU-Mriptiou nf the tJiictd, iUiulraU:d bjr (.-tigniviDftF, xv lliai 

ton^ 



srrnunt \rj/ Mr. Ilrnry L^w, C.R., in ' Wiale's Quarterly Pspcrs on EnsinMnog/ 
Pun TX. Rixl X. 1843. 



\ 



I 



A 



The BrwuU. 



19 



«ns, 1ml llic! pressure wTiich it liwl (o resist was npwnrds nf aJ 
thtiusaml ions ; ami there were but few ji;uis of the fraiiit* whlcl 
were not fracturwl by the tremendous pressure of tht watt-r whkll 
buret in upon the tuanel from time tu time duriug the prugrcss 
of the work. 

In further explanatiaa of the dctatU of the shield, it may he 
}»ric(ly stnted that each frame was supported on two jacks or legs,] 
whirh also bore tho pressure of the superincuinhf^nt ground. 
When the cxcaratioii had sufficient]}' j>rocec'dc<l, these legs^ by a 
met-hanical arranpcment, were made to movB forward by means 
of the knee and aukle-joiiits with which they were provided. 
Another important pnrt of the shield was the arms or slings, 
auxiliary to the legs, by means of which the weight of any frame 
couhl be wht>lly thrown iiijon its two neighbours, whih- its own 
le^ were Uius entirely relnred from pressure. This expinlient 
was found of f^cat value when the ground on which any siu(;lc 
frame stood was soft or loose, and uniible of itself lo sup- 
port ihc stiperincumhcnt pressure, as well as to enable any par- 
Umlnr frame ti> Ije removed from its place for the purpose «»f 

jKiiring' it. Kijually careful arrangements were made tor tltu 
_ Ivance of the side plates by means of which the j^aufre of the 
tomic! was preserved and the excavation confined within its due 
limits, whilst the pressure of the Irater against the sides of tlic 
Work was reduced to its mintmnm. It was also so ctrntrived by 
the engineer that, uofler nil circumstances, the fmmt^ should 
maintain their pe'rpendicular position ; and hence the powerful 
altntments with which the shieltl was funiLshed. 

The first portions of the shield, mauuJactured by Maudslay, 
were lowered into their places in Octolx-r. 1^25; the remaining 
|»rts shortly followed, and on the 2&th Novcmljer die shield « am- 
mmred iU eventful mn«;h. It had already been discii»tliKl that 
the kind of m>!1 dug tlimugh was a1ti)geth*rr diiTerent from that rc- 
pn.'senti-d by the surveyor; and instinil of astratum of strong blue 
clay, — silt, sand, and pravcl, all pervious to and imprepmted with 
water, were met widi in varying strata. There was thus already 
a serious difltculty to !«• overcome by the emgincrr on which he 
Itad not reckoned, but rrsjieeliriK whleli he ought to have l>een 
iM'tter informed; and it will he found that to this rirrumstance 
the roisfortnnes afterwanls L-ncouiitered by him in the course of 
the ufHlertakinf; w^tc mainly attributable. At this early stajje 
of the proceedings Brunei was necessarily subject to great exrite- 
inent, which »(>riiiusly affected his health. Ho obtained relief 
l>Y tlic application of nuuiy lef>(;lirs In his Itciid, and he shiwlv 
recoveretl, Init imly tu undergo fresh anxiety and to be subject to 
renewed attacks of his old enemy. 

ofl By 



( 
I 




istur 
gnniiul, frw frmn water, ami tlie firet section of wntio suveii fuct 
uf t)i<! iloulilc nrclnvay was f!nmpU>ti^<l. Irn^^iilarltica in the 
strata stiortlv aft4:r bc^^iiii tu sliuw tlu-uiscl vi;s ; and when 14 
feet had been complete*! the water burst in with considerable j 
force; the puinping--cng'ijie became deranged, the works were 
stopped, and the water rose 12 feet in tlic shaft. The enpiue 
liaring' ItiMm scrt to work, tlie ex('iL%'ati(m ntrain prneenled ; but the 
anxieties of all (•<inefrnwl in the itndertaktn^ were great. Brunei 
himself was again Loufined to bed; Annstroni;, the principal 
resident engineer, broke down ; and the whole direction of the 
undertaking devolved uiwn jounjf Brunei, who exhibited a rare 
dcgre(> of skill, eourage, and encrg-y in enntendinf^ witli these 
terrible diffiuultics, Tliu excavating and building went forward 
al the rate of about K feet a-week ; and by the middle of May, 
183(>, upwaitls of 100 feet had been executed. 

The work went on for months with varying succc8«, often 
interrupted by bursts of water through porous strata, and rc<|uiring 
the excrt-ise of unremitting vigilance on the part of the eiigiuiH^rs 
and workmen to keep it back. Water and silt were constantly _ 
coming in, and often the tmttle had to lie renewed many times ■ 
in the course of each day. Young Brunei was always at the 
post of the greatest danger, sometimes remaining tlieo- for several 
days in succession, taking sleep nnly by snatches on the stage of 
the shield. No constitution could long endure such fatigue, and 
we are not therefore surprised to find that he wns laid up for days 
tf>gellier. Then his fatiirr took )us place, frccpn^ntly remaining 
all night in the frames. To add to tlicse anxieties the directors 
began to grurablc at the unex(>ei:ted difliuulties encouutere<I, and 
the increased cost incurred in carrying on the work. Brunei, 
to liis great chagrin, was even charged by the chairman with 
having misleil tin." subscriliers and inveiglcji tbem into the under- 
taking. To rcduec tlic exjienses the nnmbnr of stt|K7r!nti<ndents 
was limitwl, and a system of piece-work was introduced, against 
which Brunei protested in vain. Inferior class labourers, prin- 
cipally Irish, were taken on, whose unhandiness greatly hamjiered 
the engineer's proceedings. The work was so new to them and 
so incomprehensible, that when thnv observed any unusual activity 
among llie mJners^any sudden gush of siuhI ur nitlliiig of gravel 
upon the frames — tlieir energies bcciune comj)letely jmralysed, 
except for flight. ■ 

As the excavation advanced towards the middle of the stream^ 
the perils of the undcrtidting increase*!. There was but little 
solid ground lictween the works and the river; pieces of coal, 
brickbats, stones, bones, glass, and china— in fact the scouringg of 

ths 



J 



The Brumh. 



21 



the ThamEs^bottom — frequently ilroppecl ioto the framps. The bril 
of tho river was cxamineu by moans of a di\'ing;-bellf and the soil 
was found so loojir at oiw ]wrt that an iron pipe was readily pushed 
down into the frames. On the ISth of May, 1827, as the tide rose, 
the eround si'enipd as th<iug-h it were olive. The wiitci- was press- 
ing in at nil ]M>ints, and it was not long in entering. Occasional 
bursts of dihiti'd silt were fitlhiwed by in overwhrhning (loo<i of 
slush and water, which soon drove all bcfi>rc it. The men» forced 
out of the shiehl, fled towards the bottom of the shaft. The 
water came on iu a {(feat wave, threatening to sweep them back 
under the arch by its recoil against the circular wall of the shaft. 
The lowest flight "f steps was reached, an<l the recoil wave surged 
under the men's ivvX. They hurried up the stairs of the shaft, 
luul it was thought that all of them had rcunn in, when the rry 
was raised, 'A rope! a rope! save him! sav« him!* Some 
unfortunate workman had been left behind, and was seen 
struggling in the water. Young Brunei, seizing a rupe, slid 
down one of the iron ties of the shaft, reached the water, jtnssed 
the nipe round the man's btHly, ami lie was tmme<ltatelv drawn 
up. It provcnl to be old TiUett, the engintvnian, l^ic roll was 
thf'n railed, and every man answered to his name, but tho 
Tunnel works were for the time completely droimed. 

On examination of the bed of the river from the diving-bell, a 
large hole was found extending from the centre of the tunnel 
ejLiavation to a considerable distance eastward. Measures were 
taken to fill up the opening with saltpetre Iwgs fdh^ with chiy, 
so laid OS to form an nn-h in thr bed of the river immediately 
over the work. A raft loaded with clay was also sunk, but this 
expedient not answering it was removed, and more bags of clay 
were sunk instend. After this operation of lining the bed of 
the river with clay liad lieen persevered in for nearly a inontli, 
anil alxnit 30,0(M) c;ubic feet of clay ha<l been thrown into 
the hole, the pumping was resumed. The water was thus 
gradually cleared out of the shaft, and it became practicable 
to examine the state of the work from the inside in a boat. 
Ttie shield was found in its place-, but a» immense mass of silt 
ami gravel Blleil tlie tunnel in front of it. The details of the 
pTocee<lings which followed are related by Mr. Ueamisli with cir- 
cumstaiitial accuracy, and <K-casionally with grtnit vigour. In 
some parts of the biography there is little more life than in a lay 
figure; but here, where Mr, Beamish speaks "Ut of tlie fulness 
of his knowledge — having Ijeen engageil uiMm tlie work as one of 
die assiatant engineers — he liccomes animated and even elutjueat 
in his descriplifms. 

By the lOtb of November following, tlie Tunnel had again been 

so 




• 



aa far cleared of vratcr tliat young' Brunrl drtormtncil u* give 
dinner in one of iho iircluis to about fifty friends of Uir uiuh'r-. 
taking ; while above a hundred of tho leading worknion nma 
similarly rcgalci] in the adjoining; arch. The band of the Coid- 
stream Guards cntivcncd the scene, nnd the proceeding:^ went off 
with jfTcat ccht, 'XTie celebration liad, bowi'vcr, bwn prrinalurc ; 
and the young engineer hiid lieeii 'hallooing iK'fore lie was out of 
the"— water. For in two months the Thame* ngnhi bui-st in, 
owin^ in s«>me measure to the iucuutiousness of young Hrunel 
himself, and the river held possession of d^ Tunnel for several 
yean. Tlui circumstances connected with the ficcond Hooding 
are so well told by Mr. Beamish that we quote his narTativc of ■ 
the catastrophe : — ■ I 

* On tbo nioming of Saintdi^ Iho 12lh of JitniiAry I onme on dn^ 
at six o'clock, but woa detained abovegroond in writing out ordan 
for tho mmi who had benn rtiDfit ex{>oHcc1 to wet, to nlluw thorn to 
TCCoivQ warm boor, with a littlo gin mixod, as hful beooniu the UHual 
j>ractioe. 1 hsti ftcucely completed tlio last order, when a stnugo 
confuHnl BcHutd of %'<iiucfi sfHiniLHl to iHiiui friim tliu shaft, and imniR* 
diatcly tho watt'ltman msho<] in, cxclainiing "The water is in — tho 
TuuhgI is fiiU !" My head felt as though it would burst^I rushed to 
th<] n-urkuicu's etaiioaaa ; it was hlocktitt hy tho nit^u ; with a crowbar 
I knocked in tho side-door of the viRiinrs' staircwo ; but I hod not 
tiikim many steps down when I rocoireil iMunberd Bnmel in my anns^ 
Tho groat waTc nf n-ater hail Ihniwn him to Iho nurfacii, and lig WM 
providentially preserved from the foto which had already overwltelmod 
Lis companions. ''Ball! Ball !— CtdUns! Collins!" wcro tho only 
wonls ho eould for hoiiuj time utt(!r; hut the welUknown vutccfl 
nnsn-Gi-od not — they wore for ever silent. 

' In the earnest desire to make progress, some of the prccaotionQ 
which (fsperioneo hiid Khowii to Iw so important were uiifortmititoly 
omittod ; and Tsaml»rd Brmiol, cnlctilating upon tho tried dldll, 
ctiQTAgo, and phyNoal power of somo of tbo men coming ou in tlio 
tnoniiiig Kliifl (particularly Ball and Golliiiaj, veaturud, at higli n-ntor, 
or while the tide was still rising, to open tho ground at No. 1. 
According to his own Rccoimt, given to me that day, upon tho rouovaii 
of tht! side-coring tho grooud bogau to swell, and in a few moracotfl 
a column of solid grotmd, nbont eight or ten inches in diameter, forced 
Itodf in. This was immediately followed by tho OTenrhelmiiig tor- 
rent. ColliDS was forced out of tho box, and all tlio unilinching offurts 
of Ball to timber tho back jirovod onavailing. So rapid was the infltuc 
of water, that had thu throu nut qinttcd tho stage imiiiixb'atMy they ■ 
must have been swept off, A rash of air suddenly extingoiKhed tbo ■ 
gas-li^ts, Slid they were loft to strogglo in utter darkness. Scarcolj 
luul they prfwoedod twenty foot firom tho Ftagn tlmu tlioy wnro thrown 
down by the timber now iu riolent agitation, for alrcnily had the 
jratcr nearly reached as high at) IsambutVs waist. With great diffi- 
he extnotod his right log &om sometliiiig hoavy which had fallen 

njiun 



Tktt BmtuiU. 



98 



H, ftnd iiukIo his wty into Uio east arch. Tboro iie pftuaad for ft 
momioit to call for Ball and CuUitui, but, rbcoivtug no ontn'Or, and thfl 
wnUr cnntJQuiDg to rise, lie van (.-ompoUoil to coubhU liio own Bufetj 
by fligbt. Arrivod ut tbo aliaft, ho luund the wurloiicii's Htoircwo, 
wbicb oiWDcd into tbd east arch, crowdud. Tbu luuruing tJiifl had 
not all camo down ; the Dif;ht shift hod not nil conjo up ; added to 
which. thoHo who bad t^acctiodt-d iu pkciiig t1iciiisulve<a out of danger, 
forgelAil of their Usa fortunate comf>iuuoDK, stopiHKl and IjluckiMlup 
Ibo poosage. Unable to moko Ihm way intn tliu vent arch luid to tlio 
Tiajtom' afeaircAH, which was qnito olcar, owing to tho rapidity with 
which tho wnter rose, laambard Bmnel had no aitenkativa bat to aban- 
don himsfdf Ut tbo tremendous wave, wliioh, in a few aoconda, bora 
him on ita aooUung and angry surfibco to the top of tho abaft. With 
snch fc«ce, indeed, did the water riao, that it jomped orer tha corb at 
tlkO workinoiiB untraiicc. Tbrco uion who, iiiidiug tbo staircaaftj 
choked, undoavourcd to dsccud a long ladder which lay against tbsj 
shaft, were swept nndcr the arch b; tho roooil of tho ware. Tb« | 
huMiir luiil tliu b»VL«r flight, of tbo stairoaBO wuru ln-nicvn to piooua. 
Wv hail then to monm tlio loas of Ball, CoIUob, Long, G. Evaui^ 
J. Oook, and Seaton. . . . iMmbard liniuol was fonnd to ban 
neoived iubsnial injury na well aa kotofo abmsion in tho knoo'jointi 
■nd was oouflnod to bis bod for months.' 

Tbo funds of the Tamiel Company werr by this time «- 
Iwaatec] ; and it wasdiHf>rniine(l tu makr an appeal t^i the country 
for die nirnns of fmiehin^ it. A BtiliM-ription-list w.-is i>pcnca, 
and iH,i)W)/. proniiKm] : but this sum was a ini*rc 'llfa-bite,' and 
tfap works romaincNl suspended. The only hope which remaini^l 
was that the Government would toJto up and prosecute tho undcr^ 
taking as one of national importance and utility. At len^ the 
Mtniatr>' ccmsontod ti> malcc a loan of ^4r>,000/. for the purpftae 
of cniLlilint; tlir Tunnel tri l>e romjiletcd, and die ftrst tniitalinnnt 
was ailvanciil In Dccemlxr, IH^H. The water was then pumped 
out of the Tunnel, and the works were n>commenced, after 
baring bcon at a standstill for n period of seven years. A new 
shiehl, of exrellonl cnutmction, was supplied by the Messrs; 
Rennio, which wns sntisfacturilv plar(i<l in jxisitiun by the Ist of 
Marrb, I^Sti, But thn iliflieullieii of the undertakin:; wore nut 
yet entirely overcome ; the river broke in again and a^ain — three 
times in twenty weeks, within n, distance of only twenty-six feet j 
bnt by pcnevenince and skill tlic water was ultimately mastered, 
nnd the work was nt last brought to a completion, and openeil to 
UiR public on thn 2dtb of March, 184.1. 

It was tho engineer's last work. When the Tunnel was np- 
proai:lun(; completion, nrunel had a slight stroke of paralysis, 
irrmi which he gradually recovered, but with his phyiical power*' 
•oriously sbakeiu In his dinry of procwtUags coimcctcd with 

the 



the cnginemog operations, which hiul bem penned up to 
dine in a fine coppcrp late-like French hand, wcm orciirrcti the 
words, written after his rpcovery, cvidentlv with shaking fingers, 
'Tliank God, the Tunnel is done!' The anxiety and excitement 
of so many years were at an end; but he himself was left b,^ 
wreck. WliUe the work was goin^ on (and it went cm by ( 
niplit as well as by day), he ordered that he should be wakeneil 
up every two hours during the ni^ht, and infurmeil of tlie pn>- ' 
gress made. His house at Kotherhitlie was close to the works^fl 
and on a bell within bis bedroom being mng from below, he got 
up, struck a light, examined the portion of soil sent tip tbe tubo 
for Iiig inspection, and after writing nut instructions to the uorlt- 
Dien, and making an rntrv In his record, lie went to bed agnin. 
Mrs. UruncI aftjirwarils stitei) that, lor montlis after the Tunnel 
was finisheil, she used regularly to waken up every two houri|^_ 
and her husband with her. ^M 

Mrs. Itruncl shared all her husband's anxieties, and many ot^ 
his lahdurs. Writing in his journal, nl the age of 7li, he said, 
'To you, my dearest Sophia, 1 am inilebte<l for all my success.' 
And in another plactr, amidst the entries relating to the Tunnel 
works, occurred these words : * On this tiny, 42 years since, was 1 
united to Sophia Kingdom, now La<ly Brunei ;' for in 1*541, amidst 
bU otlier honours, he was raised to the dignity of knighthood. 
Even in his old age he retained all the sentiment of his youth, 
and continued In treat Lady Hnmel as a lover rather than as the 
aged partner of his forty years of hardtthlps. Tlie terrible trials 
of their early life bad endeared tbt^m to each oUilt in an unusual 
degree ; their affection had been confirmed and strengthened 
by their sobscquent stniggles; ami while blessing the day that 
first brought them together, tlie old man wouhl teiHlerly take her 
hand and lift it to his li[ts. hie exhibited much of the graceful 
nnlileness of the (dd French school, which well suited his kliidir 
and aOirctiunate nature. Yet he was on tht? whole a ilisappuinted 
man, and, notwithstanding his unquestioned ingenuity and inde- 
fatigable perseverance, it must be admitted that, excepting thefl 
block-machinery, bis undertakings diil mit pmve successful in a 
nrcuniary Bcnse. His biograjjlier confessiw that he was defective 
jn the businesK quality, and that he placed his |>ecuniarv interests 
*!n the liands of those tvlursc want of lajtarity, or ef|nivora1 
integrity, more than once brought bim to the verge of ruin.' 
The Thames Tunnel, though its completion was highly honour- 
able to the engineer, as a commereinl adventure proved disastrous 
to all ccmcerned in it. It (^wt more tlian double the original 
estimate, and was next to useless when made. AH thi'se things, 
doubtless, preyed upon the mind of the engineer; yet, though 

merely 



d 



The. Bramh. 



25 



increlv %'eg't'Iating !n liis lalpr ymrs, lie Iivol lo an old agf, 
expiring at his huusc in Park Sliwt, WcsUiiinsU-T, on tlie 17tb 
December, l?i4it, in his SUiycar. 

The elder BniDfl, towards the close of hi» life, was proud to 
Itch the risinff ceiebritv of bis son. VVc have seen how ener- 
Hiraity Isamhanl a^isistcd his fatlicr in farrying on tlit- works 
of the Tuiint'l, ilown to the ycai 1828, when he was severoSy 
injured by the lerribh- irrti|)tion of the river. Me worked by 
his father's side for 6re years, sharing his labours and nnsietiea, 
taking part in his experiments connected with the carbonic frn% 
en^ne, and gathering experience of the most valuable kind even 
from failures and defeats. He had lM>en an exjiert niei-hniiic 
almost from a boy, when he distinguisheil himself by his carvings 
in ivory. He had also at^quired considerable deKterity in llio 
handling of tools, while working with M. Breguet, the celebrated 
clironomctcr and watch maker at Paris, in 1821. He was tlius 
enabled readily to execute anv models which he requireil, eitlier 
in wood or iron. He bad besides well leaml what bis father 
termed ' the alphabet ui tlie engineer' — the nrt of rapid anc 
accurate drawing ; and withal he was a ready calculator, a si>und^ 
mathematician, and generally well grounded in the practical 
u-iences. 

When the Tunnel works were brought to a stand by the ir^ 
raption of 1828, young Brunei sought employment in other 
undertakings: and wr shortly after Ami him ajipointed engineer 
to tlie Clifton Suspension Bridge Company. With the assistance 
of his father, he prejiare^l thi' design of a suitable structure for 
crossing the river Avon. The Clifton Company were, how- 
pver, unable at that time to raise the requisite funds to build 
ihi' bridge; but the design was afterwards iidopte*!, with modi- 
fii-atioiLs, in tliir Siispciisinn Bridge of the same span ei-ected across 
ihi- Thames at Huugertonl, in IHiS — one of the most airy and 
gmceful bridges on the river. Even while we write, it is in process 
of removal, to give place to a much less picturesque structure 
— the bridge intended to carry the Charing Cross Kailway ; and 
the chains arc to be re-suspcndcd at Clifton, on the site for which 
the dfbign was originally mode. Mr. Brunei 8ucce«'detl in 
olitaining various uther engineering emplovments. He siipcrln- 
ti'uded the cunstructiun of ibicks at Bristol and Sunderland, ami 
laid out several ti-amways fur the accommodation of collieries in 
Glouccstcrslurc and South Wales. This last kind of occupation 
probably had the effect of directing his attention to the line of 
engineering in whicli be was principally employwl during the 
leniainder of his life. 

By the beginning of 1830 the Liverpool and MumhesteT 

Railway 



The Bntaeh. 



llailway was in full operation. The success of the locomotire 
oni^ino bad l>econiQ matter of fact ; ind a strong desire existed 
throiiphout the country for the extension of railways, more 
especially to connect the larg:er towns with L<indon. Numerous 
nrnjt*cts were sliortly set on fuot with this objeet ; ainnnufst 
othrrs the Grc-at Western Railway Company was orffanised in 
1B33, thou^'h the Act was not obtained until the year 1H35: of 
tUi* umlertnkinj;; .Vlr. Brunei was appiinted the engineer. He 
was only about iS years uM at the time, but he was skilful, in- 
geninus, full of resiiurt-es, and ambitious to disliuffuisli himself 
in the higher walks of his profession. Indoxl, from nn early 
IKiriml be ju-cms Ut have resolved to strike out an entirety now 
eoursir in railway engineering'. For this he was much criticised, 
and by some severely blamnl. But it is only fair to take into 
account the pusitiun of railway enterprise at tlic time when 
Mr. Brunei entered upon this part of bis career. TTie only 
IMSScnger line of any importance nclually at work was the Liver- 
jHHil nud Manchester liailway. The London and Birmingham 
and Grand Junction schemes were In progress; but their object 
was to serve districts dilTerent from that penotratcd by the Great 
Western line. Nor was it at that time anticipatt^d, except by 
n few far-seeing men, who were then thought unreasonably san> 
guine !n their exp<.>cUitionB, that railway* would b« extended in all 
districts, luid Iweoine not only the highways but the hyeways of 
Irafiie ihrouglmut England, When George Stephenson was asked 
what gauge should be adopted on the Leicester anil Swannington 
end Canterbury lines, without a moment's hrsitntion he pro- 
oouncod in favour of the gauge of the Stockton and narltngton. 
and Liverpool ami Manchester lines. * Ltiy them down 4 feet 
8} inches,* he said; 'though they area long way apart from 
each other now, depend upon it they will all be joined toge^ier 
some day.' But many persons then rcgordcd btcphciuoa as an 
overbcatcil enthusiast about railways, though events proved that 
his enthusiasm was but the far-siglited judgment of a man of 
unusually strong common sense. 

Ml. ]3nmel, for reasons which apiwaretd to him and his friends 
conclusive at the time, determined not to adopt the gauge of the 
railways which hud until then been laid ilown. He held that 
it was ttio narnnv for the accommodation of passenger trains run 
at high speeils, tliough it might sufficiently answer the pur])09es 
of coal and merc:hnndisn traffic. Mr. Brunei )p(^lieved that 
greater safety, as well as freedom firom oscillation, would be 
secured by proriding a broader b-ise for the suppi^rt of tlie car- 
riages, while it would give greater scope for developing the 
power) of the locomotive engine ; and tW by improving the 

gradi^its 



Tlie BrutuU. 



17 



gTiulic»t3 thrntig-hnut t)io wbole line, and avnidin^ sliarp curves, 
lir waiild Ix! Rtmbled tn mftintani tlir liigliflst practirable vplority.J 
Tbesn (fmsideratioas formed tlie basis of his plan of tht; Gmat 
Western Railway. 

The line waa consinicted of the unusual f^auf^c of 8<>vrn feet. 
The gradients were extremely good. The rails were laid on 
continuous bearings thrniighout^ the widtli of the road enablinf^ 
it tu art-oninifM]at(> jKiwHrliil Piig-jnes and Inrgf rarrtag'Ps. It is 
true, rx{>iTi(*iiCH bns served in a jrrcit measure tii iliiiiinlsh the 
furce of the couxidtrrntious which induced liruiiel Ut depart froin 
the plans oi" constructiou adupCed by the Su'pheosons. The lori>- 
raotivc engine has been so much improved of late years, liutb in 
power and compactness, tliat it is now ascertainctl tlint a wider 
(^ugu than 4 fei-t 8} incites is unnecessary. Rut such was not tho 
case when thf^ Great VVestiini line was Iniil out ; and the improve- 
muut of the locomotive itself lins l>een, in no small degree, 
accelcmied bv the stimulus ^iren to it by the bold innovations oITb 
the i^ireat Wcsli-ru eiiKineer. The line must, on the wh<ile, be' 
rr^nn]R<l na a f^eiit, and, in many resjKKrts, a novel enterprise, 
carriiHJ out in the coui[)araUve infanryuf railways. Tlmengineur 
had mil uiijy lo construct it, but tn defend his plans idniost ineltj 
by inch. Indeed, no enterprise of the kind liait been the subjn 
of audi furious contention, lattleti amouKst the share hold urs, andl 
batdes in f.-irli-iment ; the chief of all, as ever^budy k[u)ws, 
having been the battle of the gauges. 

TIm* direcTtors themselves seem early to have had inifi;;ivtng| 
as Ui llic expeiliencv of the changes introduced by tlieir engineer i 
ami in IH3H, while the lino was still under construction, the] 
invited several enffinters of eminence to advise with them on 
ailijnct. Robert Stephenson and James VV'alker declined to 
but Nicholas \V'no<l and John Hawkslmw cdUM-nted. Hot 

it in rrportH, which concurred in recoinuiending the adoption' 
of tho iiaiTow or established gauge in place of the brimil or 
cscvptiiMuil ODD. Mr. tlawkshaw clearly pointml out that tho 
existing gauge had originated 'in experience, and that the men 
vhosc ptactical knowledge ol railways hnd iK-en the; greatest, snw 
the least occHsinn lor its alteration ; iliat three-fourtlis ol England 
was lieing trnversied by the narrow gauge, and it would be a 
great evil If Uie Great Western district were lo bo isolated from 
alt Uiff great lines in its nelgliUmrhcMKl ; that notliing was to 
lie gained by increasing the width of the gauge, whilst much 
roigi]t be lost by unnecessary expenditure of capital in the 
first place, and bv driving (lafTic in oUier directions in din next ; 
ami, under tliese circuuistnnces, he strongly urgeil that, as only 
twcnty'two miles of tho railway had been laid down al the t]at« 

of. 



I 



I 



of his rcportf that portion should hp forthwith converted 
narrow gau^c, and tlic remtiiniler cxecute<1 of tha same width. 
Mr. Hawkshuw's rerominendations were of no avail. Mr. Bninel, 
Mr. Babbajcrv, and .Mr. Kus^ell Ciuruoy'opposcd their adoption by 
the Company ; Genius, Science, and Elcujuence carried tlie day ; 
Mr. Brunei assured the shaieliohlers that tlip broad gauge was the 
Iiest gauge, and tJiat the Great Western ' could have n» ronnexi*™ 
with any other o{ the main linos of railway.* On a division, Uie 
shareholders endorsed the recommemtations of their engineer, 
and the controversy was for a time put an end to by the compic- « 
tion of the Gn.>at Western an a broad guuge railway. H 

Vcsirs passe*!, and railways of a different gauge met Mr. 
Rnmel's linr at many points. Mr. iirund himsi-lf was tli« 
engtniMrr of varicius lines of namiw gimge, tlierehy admitting its 
practical sufficiency for railway traffic. 'I'he break of gauge 
eventoaiiy came to be viewed in the light of a public calamity. 
The intervention of Parliament was even called for, and a. 
Riiyal Cnmmissitm was appointe<l to take evidenee, and rejKwt 
on the sulijert, which tliey ilid in 184t}. But it was t(M> late 
to remedy the evil. W'liile an actual saving of capital would 
have been eftecle<l by the adoption of Mr. llawksliaw's rocom- 
raendation eight years before, it was now found that the altera- ^ 
tion of the Great Western lines from the brood to the narrow H 
gauge would cost upwards of a million sterling. 

Hnw was this amount to I^e raised? By the sharehoWers or 
by the public? Tlie (luestion was, irHleed, felt to Im- surrounded 
with ililhcultv; and ^(1 tliat the commission did was to recom- 
mend the future restriction of the broad gauge lines to their own 
district. Since that time something lias been done to remedy ^ 
the original evil. The mixed gauge — tliat is, the narrow gauge fl 
within the bn»ul — h.is Ixren adujited, and is grndually extending, 
'Ilie most recent upplicatiim of this plnn lins l»-en Itetwfren ]»n- 
don and Heading : and the pruprietnrs of the Great Western 
Railway will probably have to make up their minds before long 
to exten<l tlie narrow gauge to Bristol, if not throughout their 
entire system. 

The fireot VVVstrm Railway was built in all i-eap«?cTts according 
to Mr. BiiKiers plans, and the works were exMnite<l tin a sciile of 
great magnificence aud, it must be added, of unusual costlinesfi, 
]n <)esigning the bridges along the line, he displayed ibc skill of fl 
an arcbitcct as well as of an engineer. Some nf llieae structures " 
are characterised by much grniuleur of conception, and form fine 
idijerts in the lundsitipe, from wliatever points tliey are seen. 
'Hie Wliarncliffe vjaducl over llie Brent, iK-ar Hanwell, 8?W) feet 
in length, is a remarkable instance of successful architectuml 

invention. 



TTIw BrttneU. 



inrcntion. It is supported Uy ci^lit elliptical nrchcs of seventy 
feet s[yan, with a spring of eighteen feel in the centre. Gigantic 
square columns rise in pairs from a broad square hnwinrnt ; 
each pair, united nt the tcp by IkjM architmvcs, forming the 
singU' pier from whicli Oie arches spring. Thedesig-ii is through- 
out handsome and eousistent ; the whole structure imparting' 
the idea of massiveness and power, but without heaviness or 
ineleg-nncc. 

Tlie bridge at Maidenhead was a still more remarltable effort, 
so daring as almost tn expose the engineer to tlie charge ol" rash- 
ness. It would sceni as if he had here created a difficulty for the 
express purpose of showing how he could overcome it, for tliere 
was no necessity for making the main arches of the extraordinary 
width and flatness which he gave to them. The bridge consists of 
ten brick arclMS, the two principal being each 128 feet span, with 
a spring of only 24 feci 3 inches. Thev an- said lo be the widest 
ami flattest arches ever constructetl of bricks. And when it is 
considered that these bricks are of the insignificant size of only 
4^ by Sj inches, and that each of the enormous spans has to 
carry not only its own weight, but its proportion of the road, and 
railway trains running over it at high speeds, it will probably 
l»e admitted that a design so Iwld and perilims is one rathec to 
lie marvelled at than followed. Iiulce^i, iK-foro the work was 
finishctl, the crowns of the arches exbibitcil signs of ilisjilace- 
ment; one of tbem had to be rebuilt down tn die haunches, and 
it became necessary at last to form an arch of solid concrete of 
considerable thickness over the brick vnussoirs, which do not 
therefore support the structure by virtue of their own resistance, 
ss might lie supposed. 

Various other works of a formidable character occur on the 
Great Western line, incluiling a tunnel ot nearly two miles 
Doder Box Hill, and others of lesser magnitude, a stone viaduct 
nc«r Bath of sixty-five twenty feet arches, and numerous bridges, 
cuttings, and emimnkmcnts, all of which were exccutwl with 
eminent skill and success. In laying down ',the permanent 
mod, Mr. Hruiiel adopted several allogetlier new methods. For 
instance, the hmgitudinal timbers on which the rails were laid 
were made to rest upon die heads of piles driven deep into the 
road. But this proving to be a faulty method of construction, 
the heads of the piles were sawn off, and much valnable timber 
was thus left burini in the road. These experiments, lluiugli 
costly, were not M'ithout llieir use, anil even the errors fonimitl*»d 
laying down the Great Kxperimental R,-iilway — as the line 
to be calleil — proved of use to other engineers by enabling 
to determine what methoils safely to follow as well as 

what 




what to avoid. In the mean time Mr. Brunei became fiuncnu 
as on cnfii^ineer ; and wh«n the demand arose for further railwarsy 
he WR8 larjfcly and profitably employed. 'Hie South VVnles the 
Rriitto) and Exeter, the South Devon, the Cornwall, and other 
lines in rnnnection with the Great Western system in the Western 
aiwl Midh'uid districts, were mainly laid out hy him and ron- 
structfKl after his plans. ^M 

The South Devon Railway was in many rcipccts an unfortu-™ 
nate undertaking^ — unfortunate for Mr. Hrunel himself as well 
as its pniprielors. It was projected in 1841, ahaiit which timOH 
the plan of wnrkin|r railwars hy atmosphrrir pressiiTL- ln-^n ttf^| 
attract the attculmn of sricntific mt-n. Instead of haulin^f the 
trains along the railway by locomotive p>wer, it wag proposed by 
the new system to impel them by a piston workinjr in a tube 
pre-viously exhauxtiKl of its atmospherie air by the aetltm of 
staliiinarv steam-rngines. Messrs. Cle^g and Smnuda had 
patiMitiTfl a very Iiif^cnioiis iiminjjcincnt wiUi this objcet, M-liieh 
ul once attracted Mr. Drun<-d'satti--ntion and secured his approval.* 
It seemed to him to present a ready method of working railways 
of much steelier frrodtents than the locomotive was capalilc uf . 
surmounting ; and lu his mind it appeared to combino 
cssf'ntial a/irantagcs of economy, eaffrty. and cimvenience. Htfj 
bad Imx-ii enf^^nl bs the enginetrr of an Italian railway di-sif^ofd* 
to connect (icnoa with Turin and* Milan, one part of which 
must necessarily surmount, by a steep incline, one of the [msnea 
of the Apennines; and it occurred to him that this clejraut and 
apparently etiective metlio<l of securing power was exactly sailed ' 
for his pur|xi9i!, Numenius expin-iments were made with thefl 
atmospheric upj>amtiiK laid d<»wn «m a ]iiu-t of thir West London 
Railway at \Vormwood Scrubs ; and their succe^ was such as 
to induce the directors of the Dublin and Kingstown Railway ti> 
adopt this method of haulage u{Hin their brniich line betweea 
Kingstown nnd Dalki-y. AlKiut tht* same time Mr. I^runel 
recommended its ndii|)tion by the Croydon Company and by tlia^_ 
South Devon Com|)any, of which last he was the engineer. Hftfl 
also appeared in l^arliamcnt as its strenuous advocate, in oppo- 
sition to the Newcastle and Ikrwick locomotive line of the 
Stephenisoiis. ^1 

Mr. Brunei by no means stood alone in advocating the supe- V 
riorily of the atmospheric principle in railway working. It wu 
coButenanced by the Goveriunent engineers, and Sir Robot, 




Sir Itftoibard BniQ«l iras oqaally captlvsicd by Hie {nveiittna : ud be pvo*^ 

" s, ftiul 
^ the 

Peel 



' Dir itftBimra nniiici wu oqmuj capiiviica 07 inn armmaa ; waa do pro*' 
IHMed la sppiT ii in wofkiiu out oalf nM^ugers, bat burses, curiam, aiul ' 
ffoodi, up uiif dowu thv (hntu of the Thumes Tannidl, bi wt-U as throu^ the 
Tunoel lts«l/. 



The Uruiwb. 



SI 



Pt'fl greatly fa^ounxl it, Mr. Vigiiolles, Sir William Cuhitt, and 
otfirr engiitM'rs »f eminence, npjK-arcd ns \\s siipjuirUTs Iwforc 
Committee* of Parliament. But il was met by Mjuallv strouR 
(i]>po>ition« es])ocial[y by the Stepbens^ms, who held that the 
atmusjilK'iic rnilwiiy was but a rp|ictition, under more difiicult 
coniliLioiis, of tlie fucil ciigim-'u antl nijicj of tlin onrly cda! mil- 
WAVS ; and a series of tnitUcs wns fought orrr the atinospheric 
iyitFin, almost ns fierce as those over tlie gauges. Mr. liruiiel 
dixplayrd the greatest adroitness under the legal and technical 
enM*-<juc»tioning of counsel to which he waa exposed, and his 
tMdy nppHiation of facts rarely failed biro. IJc failed, however, 
in (-(irrying- his atmospheric railway thrtiugh NOTtliumberland, 
but he succeeded in fiiouth Devon, la confident reliance on 
the 'principle,* the line auUiurizcd in the latter district vas 
provided with anusually large tubes and powerful stationary 
engines; and it was constructed of such steep gradients as to 
worked with dilficulty by the locomotive engine, which was 
ipuseil to Ije discarded. In further proof of his perfect faith 
the soundness of the atmospheric system, Mr. Brunei in- 
TMted ab^ut 20,000/. of his savings in the undertaking. 

It is not necessary to describe Uie progress or rather no- 
ess of the South Devon Railway, for it proved a coroplcte 
lUrc so far as the atmospheric tubes were concerned. The 
wjustrurtion of the line cost m-arly double the estimate, whereas 
tUc revenue fell short by nenrlv one-half. The gross receipts 
Iparely covereil the working expensps ; and in the last year of the 
aluiospheric working, the expenditure was even in excess of (ho 
iacoin& lo April, 1^48, by which time many railway companies 
had fallen into difficulties, one of the shareholders described 
hiuuKlf and his fellows as *the most unfortunate proprietors of 
the most unfortunate railway in the kingdom.' The great cause 
of failure in the scheihe was the imp(rs»ibility of maintjitning 
A vacuum iu the tulies. It will scarcely be credited that the 
IKnrerful engineer was boillMl by enemies so contemptible as 
field-mice, which feasted on the tallinv atid ate away the leather 
which formed the continuous valve, so that it could not be kept 
air-tight. Kain, frost, and stinsliine also acted injuriously on 
the valve; and thouL'h piittymen, with pots and spatulas, followed 
ewh train, the maintenance td" a working vacuum was found tn 
be impracticable. The result was, that, after a loss of nearly 
half n million in muney^ the aunospheric tubes were all pulled 
up to give place to the locomotive engii»e. The fnilnre of the 
Khetne wa* a wnirce of great grief to .Mr. Brunei. He was nrady 
to acknowledge tlmt he had ma<te a mistake, which, though 
dinsCrcHM to the shareholders, had proved ec|ual}y so to himself. 

Unhappily, 




I 



Unhappily, the loss to the company did not end with the rcmov 
of the tubes ; fur, owing to the original defective construction 
of tiie niilwuy, they were saddled with a Une o( bad working 
gradients for all time to come. 

The last and greatest of Mr. Brunei's cng^ineertng aehieve- 
inents in connexion n-ith railways, were his bridges at Cbe[>5tow 
and Saltasli, — the one to carry the South Wales Railway over the 
Wye, and the other to carry tlic Cornwall RaiUvay over the 
Tomar. The latter bridge was finally oj>ened by Prince Albert 
in 1859. Both sti-uctures are erected on the same principle, 
being what are termed 'bowstring girder' bridges. The dimen- 
sions of tlie Saltasli Viaduct greatly esceeil tliose of tlie Britannia 
bridge over the Menai Strait. It consists of nineteen arches, 
seventeen of which are from 70 to 93 feet span, and two main 
central spans each •155 feet wide. As tn the cose of the Britannia 
bridge, the riiovernnicnt opposed the erection of any structure 
that should offer intemiptitui to the navigation of tlie Tamar ; h 
atul the engineer was therefore under the necessity of framing his^J 
plans so as to meet the requirements of the case. Hence the grand ^ 
fc^nturc of the Saltash bridge, which consists of two immense 
arclinl tuU'S »>f wrought iron, snivimiiig the streain ns it were at 
one gigantic leap of ill^^ fi?et. The outer ends of these tubes rest 
on the two main stone piers at the water's edge, and tlicir inner 
ends on a columnar pier in the centre of the river hereafter to be 
described, ^usjiension chains hang down from the summits of 
these piers in a segment of a circle, supporting the roadway to 
which lliey are I»olted. The longituilinnl l>cams forming the 
road are furtlier supported by long-Hnktrtl tension chains sus- 
pcmlcd from the arched tubes, and rendered rigid by yertical 
struts and diagmtal bracing. The chains and tubes thus act as 
n double bow, the bridge being a combination of the tubular and h 
suspension uiethtHls of construction, possessing the strength <>f^| 
the former with n saving of not less tlian 25 per cent, in tlie ' 
weight of iron employeil. An idea of the Cyelopi^an character of 
tlie work may be formed fruni the fat:t Uiat each of tlie tubes from 
which the longitudinal beams are suspendc<l, weighs upwards of 
a thousand tons ! The length of the viaduct and bridge is nearly 
half a raile, or 300 fi-ct longer than the Britannia bridge. 

The greatest ilifliculty which Mr. Biunel had t<) encounter 
in i.-arrying out this great work was in securing thtr fnundntlons 
for his central pier. At the Menai bridge Mr. Stephenson 
found ready-made foundations for his main tower in tbe exposed 
Britannia n>ck, conveutentiv situated nearly in the centre of the 
stntiL, wltereiis the rock on which the central pier of the Saltash 
bridge wus founded is not less tJion 90 feet beneath the surface — ■ 

the 



I 



d 



The BrtmeU. 



33 



the depth of water boing about 70, and of mud and jC^vel about 
20 feet. The founding; of a solid pier at so ^reat a dt'ptb 
would liavr been regTirded as allogellier impracticable less thaii 
twenty years agt), and so difBrult a feat has only been rendered 
pnssihli; by the improved expedients of practical science. The 
pn>ress ailopltxl by Mr. Ilrunel was similar to that employed 
by Mr. Hughes in getting; in the foundations of the new railway 
bridge at Rochester,' but on a much more furmidsble scale. An 
immense wrought-ircin cylinder, 37 feet in diameter and 100 feet 
htj^h, weighing W^ tuns, was sunk per|>endirular]y orer the spot 
wlierf it was intendiKl tu set the fuundatinns uf the pier. Fruin 
tliis cylimier, so sunk, the water was partly pumjicd out at tho 
top ; after which the process was reversed, and the remaining 
w«ter was forced out at the bottom bv a pneumatic apparatus 
worked by a slenm-imgine. Uniler this se%'pre prt-ssure the work- 
men were enable*! to excavate the mud and gravel to a great 
depth, and at length to lay the foundations uf the pii-r upon »iUil 
rock* tK) feet beneath the surface of the river. 'I'he pressure 
under which the men worked was not less than 3H lbs. to the 
inch; nnil although many of them wen* seized with cramp, 
fainting, and insensibility, aiul one man suddenly dieil on being 
first subjeeled to it, yet when tlieir systems luid be<-ome inurtHl 
to the work, they could continue the excavation witliin the cylinder 
for several hours at a time with cum jKirati rely slight incunvc- 
nicncc. At la&t, the solid column of granite was built up within 
the tul»e, ami upon it were set the four iron columns of the central 
pier. They an? i-arh 10 feet In diamtrter and 100 feet high, 
weighing 150 loiis apiece, 'llie nreetioii nf the pier, the floating 
mill raising of the arched tufw-s, Uil- ftxiAg of Uie suspeiid«I plat- 
form, involved great toil, anxiety, and peril ; but the whole was 
ftt length satisfactorily finished after about six years' labour, 
and the bridge opened for trntBc In 1859. Tlie Saltash via- 
duct is confesseillv uue of the most successful, as it is one of I 
the most economical and at the same time one of the largest 
structun-s of the kind that has yet been erected. 

Like his father, Mr. Brunei was always ready with au expo- 
dirnt to meet any difiiculty that might arise in the exercise of nis 
pruleBsion, though his range of uintrivancc was not perhnpa so 
gttait, nor his ingenuity of so original u character. Thus, during 
llip Crimean war, he Ment out lo Turkev to organise the hospitals 
on the Dardanelles, which he effected with emineut ability, and 
on hb return to Kngland we And him devising an iron-plated 



• See ' Qnancrly ItL-rieir ' for Jnlj, 18!k8, art. * Iron BridgM.' 

Vol. 112.— M». aj.t. D armed 



armed ship capable uf withstamliiifi: t]ie fire of the Sebastopol forts. 
But the tlistiiiction which Mr. Bi'uiicl attained as a naval engi 
neor was I'riiicipally in connection with the commercial marine. 
lie hiid, like his fuUier, early turned his ;)ttention to the improve- 
ment of «ile.im-sliip5, taking an active part in man^ of his cxperi 
menu; and as tlie cnffinecr of the Great Western Railway, i 
was natural that lie shuuW put fortli his bi*st efTnrts to render itj 
western tenniniis at Bristol the principal slalioa for the departure 
and arrival of Transatlantic steamers. Only a few years before, 
the practintbility of making a voyaf^e to New York by steam hnit 
been strongly disputed, ami Dr. l^rdner proved to his own satis 
faction that the thing was impossible. Kven Sir Marc Brunei, 
though very snccuIatiTc in the matter of stcara-boaLs, when re- 
iliiested in 1824 to allow his name to appear as superintending 
engineer of a steamer proposeil to be built for the purp(»sc »' 
plying to find from tlie West Indies, declined on the ground that, 
in his opinion, ste:im would never do for distant navigation. Vet 
after tlir lapse ol some twelve ycnrs we find liis son constructing 
steam-shijys cajjable not only "f making a voyage to the West 
Indies, but to the .■\ntipodes— Ibn ' Great Brltnin ' steamer bein^ 
now enpiged in plying )>etwceii l^ngland ami Australia. 

Mr. Brunei was appointed engineer of the Steam->Ship Com* 
panv started at Bristol in 1836, ami it was under his auspices that 
the 'Great Western/ propelled by paddle-wheels, and the 'Great 
Britain,' propelled by a strew, were there constructed. Both 
vessels were designed and built by Mr. Patterson, the eminent 
Bristol shipbuilder, while to Mr. Brunei was entrusted the arrange- 
ment of the motive powi^r. 'Hie si/-e, not less than the efficiency 
of these vessels, remlered them the wonder of their day. Indeed, 
the 'Great Western' was so large, that when finished it ¥ni» 
found nei'essary to take down one side of the dock-entrance to 
let her out to sea! The 'Great Britain,' which followed, wag 
bigger still, being in respc*<-l of tonnage double tlie size of hpf 
pre<iece.<(sor. But before many years hod passeil tlicse vessel 
were themselves thrown into the shade by the ' Great Eastern,'' 



I 



* CnptBiii C. [*. Cu[r« tuttntitted his plnnt, nnet; ulopted in Ibe Ainericttn 
* Mnoitor.' to Mr. Knmtl in 1S5A. AOer thoroaghlj mi^rins Into iho tnsitc«% 
explain CoIm Uvk. ' hv nMtir^il t»« tliat I lia<l hit on the right thing, and gviie- 
nnixly wlded that fa« ho^l himself beoa devj&inu k v<?m«L lor the Mime iiurpwe. liut 
that tiilnc WBB so anpi-ricH' to his nwn he shonlJ ililnk no mnre nf It. liv did uiorc 
Ih&n tiiis— be aMifticd mv in my caleulftiioa»,&Dd gavf nic the sid of bit draught*- 
Bicu. Wlicn I [ukc^l him wbftt 1 wgu indebtiKl in him for thix. he said. " Noihicig," 
fbr be )iad the ^reati-st pliiksiirc in helping a uaval ofHii^r «hn was Irving to 
beuv'fil hi* couuirt . I tU:ill ulwnys rtfR)i;nili«r his gijuctvu* <:(^iiduct -,n wvU a* his 
panic}: words, "<^ vg, pcrsirvere, and jok will sacntcd." Thv>' bii*«-. iiidred, 
oftfit chc«reil me under ib« grt^ttrnt A'tKunngtawniB.' —/'titer in /A« ■ TTina.' 




The Bnimh. 



85 



in which Mr. Brunei combined the powers of the jwddie-wheel 
aatl tlif screw, and siiccertlinl, with llie aid of Mr. Scott Riissetl, 
its builder, iii hrini^ino: In rninpletion ami launching the larufst 
ship thnl has ever f!ctat(«t. These vessels were all excellent speci- 
mens of steam-ship ronstruction, arul though they mif^ht embndj 
no idea Ahofrother novel, and proved failures in a commercial seme, 
it is unquestionable that they exercised much influence on the 

KXjgTf-ss of steam navigntion. Tlie * Great Eastern' was Mr. 
puiiel's last ^eat eiiKineerin^ work, and tlicre is little reason to 
doubt that bis health was seriously undermined by the -/.vaX 
and anxiety witlt nliich he dcvDte<l himself to it^ completion. 
By a lingular coincidence, he went on board the Great Ship for 
the last time on the very first day when it could be said slic was 
ready for sea. The 'Great Eastern' did not, however, leave her 
RiooriniLcs for another week, ilurin^ which intor\-al the enpneer 
was seized with imralysisf and he expired while the vessid wjis 
moving down the river to start upon her calamitous voyage to 
Holyhcoil. 

Allhoufjh Brunei dietl nt tlie com|janitivelv enrlv age of fifty- 
three, it ia even matter <d' surprise that he lived so hmy. He hiul 
more perilous escapes from violent death than fall tu the lot of] 
moat men. We have seen that at the outset of his career, when 
acting as assislant-enpineer to his father in the Tliames Tunnel, 
he had two narrow escapes from tln>wuing by the river suildenly 
buDittn^ in upon tlie works. Some time iifter, wlu-n insperting 
the shal'ts of the railway tunnel under Dux Hill, he was one? day 
riding a sluiguy pmy atarajiid pacodown the hill, when the animal 
stumbled am^ fell, pjtchint,' the engineer on his head with gr^at 
violence: be was taken up for dead, hut eventually recovered. 
When the Great Western line was finished and at work, he uswl 
frei|ueitilv to rJde upon the enjfine with Uh- driver, and wcastonallv 
he dnive it hiuis<:'lf. One day, when passing through the Box 
tumiel u]>on the engine at ciHisiderable speeil, Ilrunel thought he 
discerned between Kim and the light some object stinding on the 
same line of road along which his engine was trarclling. He 
inst&ntly tnmcd on the full steam and dashed nt the object, which 
WBS driven into a tliousand pieces. It aften^ards lurnetl out tu be 
a fonlractor's truck wlileh had broken loose from a batlast^traJn 
tai its way through the tunnel. 

Another narrow escape which ho bad was on board the 'Great 
Western' steam-ship, where he fell down a hatchway into the hold, 
and was nearly kiUetl. But the mostcxtrnonJinarv accirlent which 
bcfel him was tlial which oceurrtd while one day playing with 
his children. Like his father Sir Marc, he was fond of astonishing 
them with sleight-of-hand tricks, in which be displayed consider- 

D 2 ti>Ac 




able dexterity ; ami tbe (e&t which he proposed to them on thi 
occasion was the passitif^ of a half-sovereign tbrouj;h kls moutl 
out at hid 4?ar. Unfurtunaiely, ho swalluwed the coin, whicl 
dropped into kia windpi|K!. 'liic accident occurrwl on the 3rd of 
Apru, 1843, nnd it was followed bv frequent fits of coughing, 
and occasional uneasiness in the right ^ide of the clicst ; hut so 
slight WHS the disturbance of breatlutig, that it was for some 
time doubted whether the coin had really fallen into the wind- 

Sipe. After the lapse of fifteen days, Sir licnjamin Krodie met 
It. Key in cousultmiou, and they concurretl in the npinion that 
most probably the half-sovereign w^s hwlged at the lH)tlom of tlic 
right bronflius. Tlie dav after, Mr. Hrunel plactsl hlinsrlf In a 

(irone position on his lnf:e upim sonic ithairs, and, bending bis 
load and neck downwards, lie <listinrtly felt the coin drop 
towards the glottis. A violent cough ensued, ami on resuming 
the erect posture he felt as if the object again nuivcd dnwiiward»^| 
into the chesl. 1 1 ere was an enginei^riug difTuTulty, the like of^l 
which Mr. nnincl had never befciri? encountered. The mischief 
was purely mechanical ; a foreign body Itad got into his breathing 
apparatus, and must be removed, if at all, by some mechanical 
expedient. Mr. Brunei was, however, rqiial fo ihi; orca.sion. 
He had nn a])|>aTatiis ennstnicled, consisting of a iilntfann which 
moved ujion a lunge in the centre. Upon this hi- had hinisi'lf 
strnpjwd, an<l liis body was tlien invertwl in order that tlie coin 
might drop fhiwnwanl hy its own weight, and so be expelled. 
At the first experiment the coin again slipped towards the glottis, 
but it caused such an alarming fit of convulsive coughing and 
appearnncT of choking, that danger was apprehritded, and tlie 
exiKTiniciit was «liscniuinup<l. Two days afti-r, on the 25lb, the 
oj»<'ratioii of tmrheotomv was jHirformed by Sir BL-njamin Brodie, 
assisted by Mr. Key, with the intf!iilioo of extracliitg the cuiu by 
the forceps, if jiossible. Two attempts to do so were made without 
success. The introduction of the forceps into the windpipe on 
the second occasion was attended with so excessive a dcgrn'e of 
irritation, that it was felt the experiment ctnild not be conlinued 
without imminent danger tfi life. 7*lie incision in the windpipe 
was, however, kept open, bv means of a (juill or tube, until the 
13th of May, by which time Mr. Brunei's strength had suf- 
ficiently recovered to enable tlie original exjwriment to be 
repeated. Me was again gtmppeil to his apparatus; his body 
was inverted ; his Imek was struck gently ; and he distinctly 
felt the coin quit itii place on the right side uf his chest. The 
opening in the windpipe allowed him Ui breathe while the thrcwt 
was stopped by the coin, and it thus had the effect of pre- 
venting the spusmu<Uc action of tlic glottis. Alter a few 

coughs 




Tiie BrumU, 



37 



cnui^bs tliP roin ilroppccl into his mouth, ^\t. Brand used 
aftrrtvanls ti> say that tlie moment when he heani the gold piece 
strikn ajpiJnst his upper front teeth, was, perhaps, the most 
cxqui&ilc in his wholi^ life. The half-iiovpreigTi liarl Ix^n in his 
windpipe for not less than six weeks. 

Tlieri! can he no <jue3tiou as to Mr. Brunei's accomplished 
akill anil energy as an engineer. His life showed that he was & 
man cijiabh! of grappling with the most diflicult enterprises. 
Imlts^l, ]u- sM-ined U* luve diflirultics s») much that he not unfre- 
quently chose the most difiicult mauncr of overcoming them. 
Whatever was fullest of engineering perils had the greatest 
L-liarrasi for him. Tluit which was easy was compnrntivcly unin- 
tiTcstiug, and its exerution could lie matter of siir]iris(! to no one. 
In other haiuU the rnnstTitrtinn of a milway hc^wtirn Lonilon 
and Bristol wuuhl probably have l>een ax uninti-resting us that of 
the Eastern Counties. But in Mr. Bnmel's the Great Western 
Railway bcramc the subject of animated controversy in and i>ut 
of Parlinnient for years. A Royal Commission sat up«Ki its 
^■Blcrptional gauge ; engineers, philosophers, nmtors, and |mmph* 
■wtcCTS,* ranged themselvps on iipjHisit*-- sides ; and Uie Great 
Wc*tem line thus gained an extraordinary prominence in the 
railway world. 

Xotwiilistanding Mr. Bruncrs great engineering akill, it is 
to be douhti"*! whether he possessed much of tin? genius of an 
ortginat inventor. He took up a principle already estublished, 
and pu&he<l It furtluT, exhibiting in a striking light the develop- 
ment of vfhich the ideas uf others were capable. His ruling idea 
wa» magnitude; he liad an ambition to make everything bigger 
don he bad found it. Thos he found the railway gauge 4 feet 
8J inches, and he increased it to seven feet, tlierrby iavnlving 
wider tmuicls, more expensive works, and a heavier equipineiit 
in working Ktock. S» in the atinmphcric railway, he found the 
tube in use on the Datkey railway fifteen inches in diameter, 
and i>n the South Devon line he doubled it. Then in steam- 
ships, his * Great Western' was nearly double the power and 
tcmnoge of an\ previous stenmirr ; the 'Great Britain,* which 
followed, was double the tonnage of the 'Great Westeni ;' and 
the ' Great ICastern* exceeded in size all that the most imaginative 
shipbuilder had ronceiveil to be possible. It was a race of 
bignc&s run against himself as well as others. But in the case of 



* It «u opoo thU oc<^&ion that Mr. Benry Lndilnglon, a nan of nn gifts, 
paUiihetl two pkoipbleu iu fuvour of ibe broad ^uge, whifh, as hiE biofrrsphnr 
trul; uuea. «ert; r«|(unli-<l hv all who read iben on utsslcrpircM of cnntroviM>ial 
and fortnaic BWIitjr. See * Tliv ItnlisnWar, *c: Three Kfitsfs. by Uie l»t« Huur) 
LfubinftOB, will) » ^ognphicai Prelkoe by U. S. V«nnbli».' Csinbrklgr. 18S9. 

the 




ad The Bnittd*. 

the ' Gruat ICnsu^m ' steam-ship, as of the Great Western Railway 
it is uot pnibablc tbut Mr. Hruiiei's example will be followeil ; 
for it is now pretty well uDilerstood that sliips, like rnilwajs, 
mB}' be nmde /oo big, at least for thuse who own them. 

N\itwtth5tniidiiijr thi- want of success which utteoded Mr. 
Bruiit-'l's priiicijuil uiidertakliiK, he was well supporlirtl throughout 
bv the monied interest. The shareliolders in tlie rjrpat Western 
Hatlwav not only readily found the capital which he required lo 
carry out his splendid ideas with reference to that line, bat they 
presented him with a handsome testimonial in acknowledgment 
of his genius. Tliough the ' Oreat Western ' ste»ra-ship pn>vcd a 
commercial fnilure, he had no difficulty in findincf capitalists to 
enable iiim to buiUI tlie 'Great Britiin' at h still greater sncrifice; 
and still again, to project and bring to completion his magnificent 
idea of tlie ' Great Eastern ' stcnm-ship. But for Mr. Brunei's 
personal tjualitiw, this re-establishment of confidence in liim 
after repcatetl failures had not been possible. His idens were 
always of the grandest kind, for he was a man of lively imagination, 
and his de-signs were such as readily to iJike ]>eople c-aptivc. He 
was the very Napoleon of engineers, tliiukiog more of glory 
than of profit, and of victory than of dividends. He would do 
everything on the most splendid scale, and was alike ambitious 
of making the best jmssibte stcani-slup and the best possible 
railway. Even capitalists wore fire<l by his enthusiasm, and 
subscril>p<i to his projects freely. Moreover he believe*! in them 
hinuelf, and was perfectly in earnest when advocating them 
amongst lus friends. While asking otliers to subs(.-ribc, he did 
not himself hold back; but put his own savings alike into his 
atmospheric milw.-iy and his 'Great Eastern' steamer. It is true 
he greatly exccedetl, in most cases, the estimates on the titrengtli 
of which sharcliolders were induced to subscribe capital to his 
undertakings. But this is a common fault on ihe part of modem 
engimx?rs; and it is one to which the elder Brunei was himself 
obnoxious : — 

* It hoH liecn made matter of consuro,* nTitoe Mr, Bojunish, * that 
llmncl never ndhurwl to an original ostimatc. The charge was urged 
at' on early period by tho Govommont, and mora or lose ocbodd \ij 
uiiltviduuht ovfir ufler ; but this charge can scarcely bo considered just. 
Ill ninny int^ttuiccs those who consulted Bmnel had such limited con- 
ceptions of their own roquironientR, that thuy wuro led to anticipate a 
oom*ponding limit in Ihn cost of tlie wtirk which they souglit to bavo 
performed; but ^vlitrc. with JBrunol, oxoelleuce was tho object, his 
snggwtlvo uud comprehensive mind adduced an cxiiaitiuon ^of ideas in 
hill imiployerB, ami, uri ii mnRniHiciieo, a desire tct realise rcRults which 
they noT(;r cnuld hsvo contemplated. These enlarged views demanded 
ftirthor thoughts and more olabonito designs, but going so fiir beyond 

the 



WW ^1 



Sussex. 39 

the original notions, they left an impression of Brunol's extravagance : 
when, however, the real object was to secnre completeueEB, then were 
the saggeetions of Brunei accepted in all their integrity, mthout dis- 
appointment or regret.' 

Such an explanation as this may be satisfactory to engineers, 
but it cannot be otherwise than exasperating to shareholders, who 
find they have to pay so much more for their finished undertaking 
than they originally bargained for ; and when an engineering 
estimate turns out to be a delusion, as it often does, it is very 
natural to suspect that it was originally intended as a snare. In 
the case of Brunei, however, it is impossible to doubt the good 
faith of the engineer ; if shareholders suffered, he suffered with 
them. The public at large have certainly no ground of com- 
plaint; for it is unquestionable that both railway travelling and 
steam navigation were greatly advanced by the speculative ability 
of Mr. Brunei, and the spirit and liberality with which he was 
supported by the shareholders of the great undertakings for which 
he acted as engineer. 



Art. II. — 1. Sussex ArduBological Collections, 1846-1861. 

2. The Seaboard and the Doum. By an Old Vicar. 1860. 

3. Handbook for Travellers in Kent and Sussex. 1858/ 

SUSSEX, or, as the name denotes, the land of the South 
Saxons, has seen changes as strange as any of our counties. 
It is difficult to approach in idea to what it must have been just 
eighteen centuries ago, when three parts of it were an imper- 
vious forest, inhabited by our painted, half-naked forefathers ; 
when the sea washed hills which have long since become sur- 
rounded by dry land, and fields, now the glory of the husband- 
man, teemed with ocean life, and when many an acre, now covered 
by the waves, formed part of the English soil. Imagination sees 
St. Paul here, as at Athens, finding altars to unknown gods, 
and declaring Him whom we * ignorantly worshipped.' His 
' Pudens,' who * saluted ' Timothy, was not impossibly the courtier 
of a Sussex viceroy, as his ' Claudia ' may have been the fairest 
of Sussex virgins.* Whatever may be said of Professor Airy's 

opinion 

• We have already (' Quarterly Review,' vol, xcvii.) narrated the Sussex legend 
of Claudia and Pudens, and have given a f^ll account of the curious inscription, 
found at Chicbester in the early part of the last century, which forms so important 
a link in the chain of possibilitieR by which the story haups. Authentic 
lliatory does not inform us whether St. Paul ever landed in the IJritish isles, but 
■ome have thought that the Pudens mentioned in his Epistle to Timothy was 
the tenator of that name, in whose house St. Peter li*eu and tanght at Komc, 

and 



40 

opiniun thnt OcMr twice IuthIccI on tljc sliuix's ul Sussex, Hi*' 
iory dimlv sccth Ves|m.Hiaii subjugating it^ auvage tribes, making 
lU'gamn, tlie future Cliii-lieslfr, his head-<|uartcr9 ; and three 
);rval Roman roails, nidi tlieir military stations, traversing t3ie 
length and hrradth of the district, whilst its 'high hills' bristled 
with eartlnvnrks and encampments. 

Descending tn Saxon times, we might tell hnw the county 
became an indeiwndeiit, though the smallest, kingdom of the 
Heptarchv, and bi>w it imssesseil a line of princes of its own, — 
of which il^lla, who landed here, as Hengist and Horsa tlid in 
Kent, may be accepted as the tbiimier. — till it became merged by 
Ceadwalia in its powerful western neighljour Wcssex, whose king, 
Eghert, united Englanil under his consolidating rule. We iniglit 
dwell on the great doubtful battle-field of Mercredpslioume, in 
which j'Klia finally pushed the Britons eastwards- — ^could v/a tell onr 
readers where it was, or give them any more satisfactory inforina- 
tion regarding Its name than that it was ]>robabIy at a ri\ii!et 
between Eastljoume and Birling fSap, eallp<l after one Mercredc 
— and we might dilate on the siege and stonn of the strong old 
citv Anderidn, the site of which, although now fixetl witli all 
but certainty at I'evensev, has hacn claimofl by no less than 
seven Sussex towns. Later, we may glance with more of historic 
confidence — though not even here without some admixture of 
legendary exaggeration — at Bishop Wilfrid, whose beauty arrested 
the arm of the executioner who had lieheaded by his side DeU 
finus, Bishop of Lyons, — -Wilfrid, now nlt-irkrtl by Sussex 
wreckers, and now avenging himself on the inhospitable ]mgfuis 
l>y converting them to Christianity ; at gnml King Kdilwalch 
too and his wife Eaba, who granted seven hides of land at Selsey 
for an endowment of the first Sussex bishopric. Later still, we 
learn hnw Karl fiodwln olitaiufd the broad atTes of Bo»liam ; 
and hi>w Harold niaile them his liomr, and dieil ghirioiisly on 
*the Battaile field;' how William 11, investcfl Fevensey ; how 
the Empress Maud was received at Arundel Castle by Adcliza 
the Queen Dowager; how the great battle, in which Henry III, 
was comph'tely defrateil by his Barons, was fought at l^wrs, and 
hv-und-by the * Impiisitionsof relmU ' wrrehehl ; and then how the 
county grew more loyal, and n)val progresses in it tMM:amc rife; 
liow Henry the Eighth was entertaiiie<l at Michelgrove, Edward 
the Sixth at I'etwortli, {.^leen Elizabeth at C'owdray, and George 
the First at Stanstcad ; how badly it bred in the days of the 

and whose enrnk rliAir of ivoiy sod gold ta slil) prrfrrred trjtlitn ibe great ihrtiM 
oT broiiic, Kjr Ijemini, in St. Petrr't ehurcli. 1'lii< in<i-nr»liiig rt-lic is ktxiwn liy 
ihi! iiaiiH- of St. Pci^r'n Choir. Its exlstcnor tm deaiwl swac years ogo by Ladj 
Morgan, «bo wrol« s loug paipcr on the mbjeci. 

Great 



I 



I 



SUMIX. 



41 



I cn dc 
■Ken 

flock 



Great Rebellion with many a loyal Sussex town and furtross ; 
and fauw, in ourowndavs, Brijrhton has risen to prosperity umlcr 
ro^-al patronage. 

A$ regards the clinrartpristics of Sussex, — altlinu^h it haH 
Qcvtr ried wiUi Xiirlhamptonsliire in the beauty of its cliiirrbiTs, 
nor witli Leicc-sturshin- in \hr. richnpss of its pastures — lliouj^li it 
cannot comparts with Hampshirp in its trout-stroams, nor with 
Lincolnshire and Norfolk in their princely farms — though it luis 
DO SnoH'dnn, no Grassmere or Ulleswater — yet it possesses fiii- 
tUrL'8 peculiarly its own. Petwortli for a subject's imlacp, .Arundel, 
Lewes, and IVvensi'V for friulal fortresses, Rattle ami l!a\liain fur 
venerable abbeys, Cowdray and Up Parks for svKaii WautVi 
may not eagiiy be matched. Xo other county caji show such an 
ejctent of sea-board frinjjed with such an acreage of rich alluvial 
soil, sucii forests of onk, and birch, and beech, such delicious 
aplauds, and liill-side st^'nery. No counts has ^^ivcn htrth to a 
TBce of inon? intrepiil mariners, of hardirr shepherds, of more 
oularing lituiliaudmen. When- dsr will you find such snug 
csteadg, and such picluresque I'armhouses, w ith their quaint 
Ics and deep dark roofs of Horsham tiles ? Its many 
ocks and henls — the carrent coin of patriarchal times — lead 
OS back ti> the first ag^s of 9i>rietv, and invest it »'it]i a dia- 
meter of primeval simplicity. Anil nlUiough it has now fallen 
behind in manufactures, its iroi>-f(Huulries and >^lass-housei for 
many years gave an impulse to an extensive and thriving trade. 
Even now its furnaces have left themselves impreswMl in the 
conntV nomcnclatnre: in many parts we meet with 'hammer- 
poods' to remind us oftlte * incessant noise' — a striking contrast 
certainly Ut their present Milituile — 'which night and day.' as 
Camden tells us, ' echoed all over Uie neigh Ihiur hood, when the 
meadows were converted into lakes and pools to turn mills, to 
move hammers to work iron.' Its eastern parts alxmiul in iron- 
itoae. The Imluatrades around St. Paul's were made of Lamber- 
burst iron ;• and die first iron cannon tliat were ever cast in 
England ranic from tite furnaces of Buxteil. But its great woods, 
which serveil for fuel, were not inexliaiistihle ; nor did the private 
profit f»>untervajl the public loss occasioned bydicir destniclion.t 
Pit-conl began to be supplied in the Nortli in infinite qunntities 
and at less expense : tlicn uprose the great national establlsliments 
of Laurnishire and Yorkshire: the trade of the county fell off, 
ftod with it the pipulatiou. The parish registers— there was ou 



* Half of Lanbcrhunt is In Saisex, 
t * Wiieu iwdcr public ptod hoae priTste gaiu takes hold« 
Aud ve, iM)or voful woodi, to ruin lsMl> suld.' 

Ihvutm, • PolyolUon,' the ITth Song. 

census 




I 



ceiuui then— show that, between 1630 .-mil 1700, it Uwiadlcii 
from 131,WX> to 98,000. In 1851 the population amounted to 
upwards of 336,000. 

'J'hc county is not without it^ g^rcat names in Church ami 
State. In Sussex were bred or born John Peckhnni, Kuljerl 
Winchelsey, Tboraos Bnulwardine, Tliomas Anmdi!ll, and 
William .luxon : of no other county cin it Iw said, obacrved 
Fullor, tliat it luis sent forth five Archbishops of Canterbury. 
To Sussex also we owe a divine, who would have been, hud lie 
lived, a worthy leader of the iirijrlisU Church — Hugh .Tiinuis 
Hose, Principal of King's College, London,* whose sliiut heart, 
ami wise hear!, and eloquent tongue, the CThurrh has sorely 
misM'd during the struggles and difliculties and errors of recent 
years. Sir Kdward Dalyngnige, the founder of liodiam Castle, 
was present at Crccy and Poitiers, and was one of the most 
successful 'knigbls adventurers' of bis time. Thomas Sack- 
villc, Barun BurklnirsI, the pnet and diplomatist, was Lord m 
High Treasurer, 8ir J. JrfTery Chief Panm, and Sir William ^M 
Pelliam uf Laugblon thi; irJsh ("hicf Justice^ to Elizabeth. ^ 
John SeUlen in himself is worth a host; Edward Giblwn lies 
burietl at Fietchiiig, under a mausoleum erected by his friend 
Lord Shcflield ; and the pious L«'ighton at Horsted Keviies. 
Shelley was bom at Field Place. Sir Edward Sugden, now Jj>rd 
Sl Leonards, whosi; brief chancellorship will not lie rradily 
forgothtn, residnl near the foiTst from which he lakes his 
title. In SiisM*! alsofsayK Lord Campbell) ex-Chancellor Erskine 
* bought an estate, which turned out an unfortunate speculation, 
for it produced nothing but stunted birch-trcca, and was found 
irriK'tainiable,' Nor do tlir ten Pr<itesLaiits burnt at one fire 
at Lewes, and scventrt'n at other plan-s, during the epis- 
copacy of Bishnp Christopht-raon, of whom Fuller quaintly ^_ 
observes, that though *he had much of Christ in his name he ^M 
bad none of Him in his nature,' less deserve a place among ^^ 
the worthies of the county. The tlirce bnithers Shirley to(^ 
of Wiston, were famous in their generiilioii, luid tlieir adven- 
turer the adiiiiriitiou of (Hiristendom ; Anthony, whom we 
find successively in opposite quarters of the globe — in Africa, 
Jamaica, and Persia, and Russia, in Germany, and Morocco, 
— and occupying a diplomatic position in every court in Europe : 
Robert, who strove to establish commercial relations with Persia, 
•ind whoso fine portnut, bv Vamlvkc, adorns tlie Petworth 
collection ; and Thonia&, iniprisomvl at Coitstnntinoj)le, and ^M 
in the Tower, then bankrupt and heart-broken, and selling ^M 

* Horn St Uttle Hont«<], 179S ; i\ei I83S. ^ 

Wiston 



• 



d 



Sussex. 43 

Wiston to pay his creditors. In few counties moreover have the 
preat places changed hands seldomer. The Howards and the 
Sackvilles, the Fienneses, the Pelhams and the Ashbumhams, the 
Percys and the Montagues, have been for many generations the 
lords of the soil, and inseparably identified with Arundel and 
Buckhurst, with Hurstmonceux, Stanmer, and Laughton, with 
Ashbumham, Petworth, and Cowdray. 

We have said that Sussex cannot vie with other counties in .the 
beauty of its churches. Yet let not its pretensions be under- 
rated. If deficient in some of the seven periods of the 
ecclesiologists,* it is fruitful in undoubted Saxon specimens ; 
and the Lancet is the peculiar characteristic of the parochial 
chajicels. The Western division is said to contain more 
examples of this than any other county. Take as specimens 
of the first (1066-1145) Worth, with its external stringcourse 
masonry supported by pilasters, which gives us probably 
the most complete ground-plan extant of any Saxon church ; 
and Sompting and Bosham; of the latter (1190-1245), Climp- 
ing and Ditehling, parts of West Tarring, and Fletching, with 
its graduated nave. Old and New Shoreham, Steyning, and 
Newhaven, almost a copy of Yainville sur Seine, and unique for 
its eastern apse, projecting from the tower, without any inter- 
mediate chancel, are fine specimens of the Norman ; as are of 
the Transitional, Piddinghoe and parts of Broadwater, Eastbourne 
and Bishopstone, with its baluster -windowed tower. In the 
Geometrical, ranging from 1245 to 1315, and the Perpendicular 
(1360-1550), the county is undoubtedly poor ; yet even here it can 
boast, in the former period, of Pevensey, and St. Thomas at Win- 
chelsea, with its fine Aland tombs ; and in the latter, of Arundel 
and Pulborough, Poynings, with its central tower, and Mayfield, 
which St Dunstan, according to the popular superstition, shoul- 
dered into its proper * orientation ;' whilst in the curvilinear 
(1315-1360), it has produced Etchingham (built by Sir W. de 
Etehingham) and Alfriston. The dates and styles of the Sussex 
churches may be thus classified ; it is more difficult to group 
them, as regards their materials, forms, and contents. Thus, in 
some parts of the county, we find them built of flints and chalk, 
in others of sandstone, and in some wholly of shingle. In some 
we have them cruciform, in some the totoers are round, in some 
the apses, whilst in the eastern division spires are more frequent, 
'to enable them,' it is said, *to be seen above the woods.' 
Generally they consist of nave, chancel, and west tower, but in 



* See Willis's ' Architectural History of Chichester Cathedral.' 

some 




some the tower is central ; in a few casteni, while several ntUI a 
nnrth ami south transept, and some cithrr a north or stiutJi aislc^ 
or both. Sliiiipled slix'ples are a general feature- 
Few tracts {>re:ient siieh neencs of iiitcrcal for tlie onittholofrtft 
as the rlipcrless flats of I'affhani, or the levels of Pe%'enscy. Not 
to mentino the ffnind, heroic caple-owls of Arurwlpl ; tir the stntclj 
heronrv at Parham ; or the raven's ehimp at Petwortli ; or that 
tiatnty inors(!l, the unsociable whi-atear, nevirr sueu to fliiek, aliU 
never met with wtsit of Anin, or ihr; inultitu<le of other migratory 
binl^ whoKf inarveltuus instincts :uid annual habits may be better 
noticed here than sinywUerL' else — wliat strange visitors of un- 
common plumage may not here be met with ! 11 Mr. Maikwick 
lias hern loo san^ine !ii reckoning golden eafflesi auiunj; Oie 
number, at least the sen engU- lias been seen or taken at lloUy- 
comlx>, Kottin^dean, and Peveiise^. That |>;rand bird the great 
bustard can hardiv be said to have been long extinct, for 
Gilltert White liimsolfobser\'ed it on the I^>wn» ; and fivc-and- 
twenty years uy;o it was undoubtedly seen at Bhilehinjirlon ; wbile» 
of the Falamiiliif the merlin in the vast woods, the hobby on the 
vaster bleak sen-sliingle, and tlie peregrine in the cliOk, arc common 
denizens. Ami who shall number the Natalores: the ospreys and 
the jfolden-eye*, the hoopers and brent-gccsc, the poclianls and 
scaup-ducks, which llie liard winter presses periodically into the 
great fewliiig-grounds and quiet restiiig-placi-s of Piigham? Lei 
us go for theif to thtr fascinating |>iigL-s of Mr. Knox, and bold 
our breath as we leani to ^.talk them un<ter his guidance. 

Sussex has never lacked faitliful men of letters to do her 
lioDOUr. Among her antiquaries the palm must undoubtetUy be 
awarded to Sir VVillinm Burrcll. As we turn over those fifteen 
folio volumes of MSS. which he bequcntlied to the British 
Museum, we actually seem to have before us all tlie indentures, 
I»«ligrees, ami mnitorial records wliich the county could ever have 
pMscssdl. Mr. Dftllaway, Mr. Cirtwright, and Mr. Tierney have 
laboured skilfully in the .^ame cause; Mr. Horsfield has written 
on the entire county ; whilst Mr. Hlaauw's and Mr. Lower's con- 
tributions on dptached county subject*, hut of more than local 
interest, are very profitable reading: we know of nothing more 
pleasantly told than the • Kaitlc of Hastings' bv the latter. The 
works which staml at tin* head of our article furnish still more 
recent evidence of the interest which Sussex topography and 
arcbawlogy Kscitr. The * Collections* of the Sussex Arcba?o!o- 
gical S<K:irty now exti-nd lo thirteen goodly octavo vt>himes. Tliey 
are among the best and mcwt interesting works of the sort with 
wliich we are acquainte<l, and will supply invaluable materials 



I 

I 
I 

I 




SaOtx. 



^ 



in the future bistorian of the county; for a gattd niuX complete 
history of Sussex is still n dcsidcmtum. Nor must ul- forj^L't an 
uu^ful compendium on the aicrartions of its sonboard by thi; 
Rev. Mackenzie WalcotL Manti'U'a account of the Sussex geo- 
lo^' is of course known and prized by all. 

After all this, nill it not be siiid, Wliat an Elysium must 
Sussex 1>e ! It appMirs to pos.sess, as the a<)vt'rttser3 sav, every 
rnjuisite for either residence or investment. But are you sure 
there are no dniwbiicks? Ve*, one, — with all our love for il, we 
must admit it lias, — hvd ; and this said mud is really a more 
serious thin^ tlian would at first sij^bt apjtenr. Fuller com- 

flaiiieil in the sbcteenth century of the bndness of its roads.* 
lefoe, after travelling thmugh all the counties, tells us tliat the 
road from Tunhritlpe was the 'deepest and dirti<«it' in all that 
part of Kiif^flnud ; and hereabouts it was, not far from Lene^s, tliat 
he describes a si^ht which he had never seen In any other part 
of England, 'that going to church at a country villa{;e he saw 
nn aneiriit lady, and a lady of very gmaj quality, drawn tn chureh 
in her ciiac-h vritli six oxen, nor was it citlier fnilic or humour, 
but mere necessity.* t The Handbook (p. xxxiii.) cites a very 
lamentable account of the journey (in 1708) of Prince George of 
Denmark from G««lalininjr, tliniugli the Sussex mud, to Petworth, 
to meet Charles VI. of S|>aiD. ''Hie last nine miles of the way,' 
says the reiiorter, 'cost us six hnurii to ronquer them.' At a 
later date, Horace WaljKdc | calls Susst^x "a tiuitful county, Init 
very dirty for travellers, w> Uiat it may be better measured by 
(lays' journe)-s than by miles ; whence it was, that in a late order 
for regulating the wages of coachmen at sucli a price a day's 
jimmev from London, Sussex alone was execpteil, as wherein 
ahorter way or belt*T j«iy was alluwcd.' 

In these days of railroads, exprtf&s trains, excursion trains, 
mail trains, parliamentary ti'ains, luggage trains, and special 
trains, there is no great difficulty in making a tour in Sussex, 
without any very grrat outlay of expense or time. It was dif- 
ferent in the ginMl ohl times when the mud of llie couiuy gene- 
mlly, and the day of that part of it culled the VV^eald in partit-ular, 
once rovcri-*d entirely with forest (wald), was a proverb, and ii 
caution to all those whose business or pleasure led them into that 
terribln slough of despond. Nut much more than one hundriHl 
years ago, 'the Jmlges in die spring circuits dared venture ih> 
farther into the county than to the border towns of Horsham 
and East Cirinstcad to hold their assizes, leaving it to jurymen, 



• •"WorthiMof Enalauil.* lUle 'SiisEex.' 

t "Ttnr throtigli Grut Briioiu/ Ity » GcnUenian. )«d. t7*4\ voL i. pp. 59. r,». 

I ' TjCti«T« to Moaugiii,' cd. CnanLughiLni, vol, ii. p. 178. 

yrowcu\«i% 



pTOMcutors, and witnosses wlio Hvctl in tlic county, to find th 
way Ui thosT plaros as best they could.* In 1771 Doctor John 
Burton, whu wrotn a journal of his travels, asks the folluwing 
question of his friend : — ' Why,' says he, ' is it that the oxen, the 
SM'ino. the women, and all otlirr miiinuls, an- so long-legged in 
Sussex? May it be from the difficult)' of pulling tlie feet out of 
so mueb mud by tin* btrengtb of the ankle tlmt llie muselt^s gK 
Btnrtcbed as it were, and the bones lengthened?' The Iteyerentl 
Doctor docs nut like the dinners better than the ronda ; he say>, 
* thoy also cook a certain tump of barlcy-mcal, looking much like 
mud itself, and hardened like iron, offering it at meals instead of 
bread: lliese yon will find universally.' NotwithsUinding their 
long legs, die l^jctur says, 'you would pi-obably ailinire • tlip 
women if you saw them, as modest in countenance, aii<l fond rif 
eleganrc In their dress, but, at the same time, fond of lalxiur, and 
cijieripnced in htitischold matters, both by nature and education 
better bred and more intelleciual geiitTally than the men.' 

Nor have things much mended even now, bo far as the 
country nwuls are concerned. The .soil h too discouraging, the 
stone on the spot Um batl. the goixl stone at a distance too expensive 
to *riirry,' so thni the flighwoy Act remains a dead letter in most 
of die j»ftrishes, transgressed and imp>tent. This ungeniol quality 
of its soil seemed to Dr. Burton to infect the manners of its 
gentry, whom he describes as 'armigeros incultos sirapticesque^ 
iiatrlarchamni ritu in Rucolicis atqnc Georgicis unice versatos, 
moribus et in.stilutis, pertndc ac oj>eribus, ni&ticos ; turn diti- 
ciplinaR Academicir turn urbanitatum vestrarum ixmdinensium 
prt>rsiis rudes.' * Although die squirearchy of Susses no longer 
merits this aspersion, if it ever did, we still incline to believe 
that an unusual Arradianism per\'ades the manners, and aame> 
thing HoHiiian tlie intellects, of tlie lower orders ; tlie result, it 
may be, of all this mud, and hill, and bog, and forest: of 
ivhich Ca-otian element the recent acquittal by a Sussex jury of ^M 
the munlerer <)f the jKJor Chichester student, in the teeth of the ^M 
judge's perspieut»is statement of the law, is by no means the lewt 
precious sjKtcimen. 

Strange, that the county whicli, next perhaps to Kent, has had 
the grpatcst opportunities for civilization, is one which, whether 
we h«ik at the nnmbrr of it* uncultivated acres, or the wildness 
of its scenery, or the primitive manners of its people, must be 
recktmed (in many pniiiotus of it) nn still among the li-ast nd« 
vanrcd iu England ; whilst it is an hintJirical fact that it was 
among the last parts ol the isl:ind which embrnceil Oiristionity. 

Tite distrid known gcnemlly as tliat of the * South Downs,' 

' ' Iter Surr!ni«e cl Siist«zienw,' p, S8. 

and 



I 

I 



iStente. 



47 



act! to die natives as *tlie hill countrt',' tliough perhaps strictly 
extending only from Eastbourne to Shorehnm, may lie saiil, in 
a popular sense, to occupy a portion of the county from tlie Hamp- 
shire bonier on the west to I'Jistboume on the cast, of some fifty 
or sixty mih-s in h*ngtli, witli nil average width of not more than 
from five to six. It is int4>rseetc(l (for it is a characteristic of 
the chatk formation to have transverse fissures) by four prin- 
cipal rivers, the Atlur, the Arun, the Ouse, aud the Cuckmere ; 
each traversing from north to south a valley of its own, and 
having llie |>ceutiarity of Ijotli rising nnti terminnttng within the 
county. Its northern escarpment is evervwhere tiic highest, 
reaching- in some pjuls to nwirly 900 feet .hImivu tlie scii-leve! ; 
whilst its general configuration is that of a auwression of gniceful 
undulntions. 

We know not n more tranquillizing scene for the uvcr- 
wninght hraiii ta rest upon than the prospect from the Downs 
ini a fine summer day — the true Copley Fielding landscape ; here 
the inanv twinkling smiles of ocean, always a feast to look uik>ii ; 
there tlie slow-voked oxen, with their peaceful pace and low-bent 
necks^ trat-Uing us, in these fevered days itf stenm and electricity, 
K very lesson of jxitience and humility ; there tlie bleating flocks, 
hrowsuig the sweet short pasture, with tlieir minutest wants 
cnnxl for, and their least wanderings restminMl, hy tliat ever 
watchful and sagacious guardian, who, though Colonel Mamilton 
Smith mav not have honoured him \vith a page among bis canine 
Worthies, lives nnd brenthc^ so beautifully under the touch of 
A Lamlsecr and a Devis •—the English sheep-dog. 

Gilbert White t obsen-ed this remarkable peculiarity- — that 
* from the westward of the Adur all the sheep have boms, smooth 
wUitE- (bees, and wlute legs. As soon as you pass that rircr, ami 
tiiuunt U^'eding Jlill, alt the flocks at once become hornless, or, as 
tlicvcall them, poll-shccp, and have, moreover, black fnceswith n 
white tuft of wool on ifir-ir foreheads, and spcrkled and spotteil 
legs; so thnt you would think the flocks of I^-ibnn were p.xitiiring 
on one side of tlie strr:im, and the varit-giited brer«l uf >Jnn>li wero 
cantoned on the other. If you talk with the shepherds on the 
subject, they tell vou that the case has been so from time imme- 
morial, and smile at y«ur complacency if you ask tlipm whether 
the situatiim of tlicst; brPMls might not be re»Trs«i.* Mr. White, 
if he were nnw alivp, wouUl be led to think difiercntly ; but, be 
this as it ma\, that slender boundary has separated the two dis- 
tricts known as East and West Sussex, as to the manners of its 
humbler classes, as eETcctually, it has Iweii said, as some mountain 
range or trackless forest. 



* A local sini«c cvU-ltrnted for Im sJci-tcUex of nual tceoes. 
i • Nslnml HUtory ofSelbonM* (ed. Ji.>fa«), p. 17S. 



No 



I 



No .illusion tn the great county characteristic — its I>eautirul 
flocks — would be complete without mentioning the re8|>ecte(l 
name of John Lllman, who not oiJy Jid mure than any other 
single person to improve the Soulliiiown brwd, whleh in roii- 
sequenre of that impnivi?ineii(. hzis now spread widelv over the 
country, but who also raised the whole character of Sussex hus- 
bandry, which, according to Arthur ^'oung,* had not, in his 
earlier davs, one feature of excellence to recommend it. 

Nature has given to Su&scx an unkindly soil, which the re- 
sources of art, aidwl by tlie unterprise of even such landlords as 
thr late Dukr uf Richmond and the Earls cif Egremont, Chieltrster, 
and Shi'liifld, have not overcome. I'arts of it, however, must 
be excepted — as, for instance, the rich loam of the sea-coast 
nround Littlehampton and Bog-nor, the 'garden of Sussex '(many 
parislies in which grow forty bushels of wheat to the acre), and 
the fertile clay of tlie range which intervenes between the Weald 
and the Downs. Even tlie VVeakl — a considerable portion of 
which was not many years ago pronounced ' incorrigible,' when* 
the farmers are poorest — now produces handsome crops of wheat, 
besides excellent crops of clover and winter tares. It might, 
proljahly, also grow root-crojw, VVealden clay, however, is 
essentiallv a wheat soil ; to it the farmer gives all his manure, 
besides a summer's fallow, though this, when too much trusted 
to, bus been called 'dressing wiUt the ploughshare.' Much has 
alreadv been done for tlie countv by draining, umler-draiuing, 
the cultiration of roots, the use of modem machinery and suitable 
manures } and when the farmer has thrown down the uscles* 
fences, gmbbed-up the worse than useless 'sliaws,' which now 
(to use an expressive local phrase) * house in ' his small enchisun-!^ 
taken out single trees, which are more injurious than a whole 
Wood, and brought his inferior p.istures into cultivation, he 
will find things still better for him. The changes we have men- 
tioned, together with the Poor Law Amendment Act and the 
cessation of smuggling, have already most materially impFOve<l 
the condition of tbr pcasanlrv. 

Tlie ui>]>er portion of tlu* chalk form.ition, which cnmprises 
the Downs, is 8ci>ai-ateil, geologically, into two divisions; the 
first containing the chalk with (lints and the chalk without flints ^j 
(the latter chnracirriscd by a finer texture and graver colour) ;^^| 
the lower strata ciimprrhending, in well-marked dejiosils, the ^^ 
chalk, mart, and fireiitone, which, again, rest on a bed of gaull 
an4l lower green-sand. 'I'hcse strata have been evidi-ntlv all 
depusitnl in the basin of an immense and profound ocean, teem- 
ing with rouutle«* forms of animal life, whose fositil remains, 



4 
4 



• TTi«r8«rcUrj of the IhnnI of Agricnliarc 

found 



Susj$er. 



49 



foonil in the most pcrfoct state of pTcsorratinn imaginable, testify 
to thp gentle and gradual operation of that great process of Nature 
wliirli, in remote nffcs, consolidate*! them. 

As we get furtlier intii tlie county, other grtat gcologic&l 
fiirmatioRs eiignge our allenttoii. Throughuut the nurth and east 
runs a vast bed of claj, or marl, known us tlic Wualden eUy, 
unUergirded bv a bed of sand, in which the ironstone was found ; 
the one remarkably favoumble for forest-timbrr, and holding 
ibe Sussex marble ; the other for its picturesque, thonj^h barren, 
appearance ; and Iwth showing' by their organic remains that they 
have Ix-en prwiuced by the action of river currents, and not by 
the waves of the ocean ; whilst on the soutb of the Downs, and 
up the vallevs and levels of tlie rivers, occur still newer dejMsits. 
Tlius^ beginning with tlie lower and most ancient strata, we have 
llie imn'Sand, including the beds of ironstone, the Hastings, Til- 
i;ate, and Aslil)urnhani beds (the highest point in wliirh is Crow- 
borough Hill), then tlie Wrald or Oak Tree elay, cimtjiining 
embedded M'ithin it twenty different torts of shells, fiabes of a 
pecalinr character, reptiles of various genera^ including tortoises, 
ciuciMliles, and otiier saurians (of which the most remarkable is the 
herbivunms iguanodnn), together witli some remains of the onlcr 
of wadiiig-binls, though, as yet, no bones of niamnialin ImvR been 
ubsminl in it. Tlin vrgrtable rcmnins m*r chieflv fpnis, c^-cadt-w, 
and conilera*. Almve the WVahleu comes the chalk, and over it 
again thp teniar}" formation, showing Stonehengc sandstonr (large 
boulders of siliceous sandstone rretiuciitly found among tiie hills) ; 
the plastic ilay (of which tlie Castle Hill at Newhaven, and 
Chimting Mill near Seafonl, are gmn] sp(--cimcns) -, and, lastly, 
the Lonilonclay. To llie«; succeeU, finally, the newest deposits, 
comprising the diluvial, or those which are the effects of causes 
no longer active, and the alluvial, or those which arc occasioned 
b\* such as arc still in opTrnlion.* 

To each of thi; above gifdogical divlsionsof the county belongs, 
as might be expected, a distinctive yfora of its own. On me 
Weald, indeed, Nature seems to have lavished her choicest gifts, 
OS if in kirnlly compensation for the many disadvantages of its 
mln* and sloughs in winter, and its thirsty lands in summer; 
its wild flowt-rs an* proverbially gt)rgei)us in llieir hues, and 
mngnificetit in tlieir *.!»■. Where else shall we see the mcrry- 
licflrled school-children returning with such pretty loads of primroses 
and cowslips? where else do the self-sown ferns dress out dank 
lanes with festoons more elegant than South Kensingtnn priyj^- 
men shall ever arrange for a dintr a la Jituac f On the levels 



' Sc« ' MonttfU's Cvolugy of the RonOi-Eatt at Engtaod,' clup. V. 
Vol lU.—Nti. -^23. K Md 



and vitUeys of the rivers we gather a different but hardly 
bright and variegated nosegny of water plants. On the Downs 
the siK?cie9 seem dwarfed, but arc still moat beautiful. What, ^ 
Sot example, can comiXLte with the gulden blaze of their gorsofl 
for spring-tide splendour? what, for exquisite pencilling, with 
the \ovs]y eyubriitlit, the blue gentians, or pink centaury with lu 
yellow ejc* wliilst on the barren moors of the sandy distrtcti^ 
the ling spreads colour and rirh glowing hues over thousands V 
of aercs: hence manv a tint df-'^ar to the landseapc-jiaintcr, and 
the mellow distance lading into a purple haze. 

No county, not excepting Kent, retains its Saxooistns more than 
Sussex, whether we reganl the names of places, thingSi, or persons. 
But we must caution our Sussex friends — Uie ' Susscxienscs Su»- 
spxiensium ' — th:it in their zeal to uphold the reputation of their 
n>untryuien as grammarians, they do not press their ditims ton for, 
We will not question that, even in its apparently ungnimmntical 
forms — e. y., m the preterite of verbs, as in ' catcbml/ 'blowcil,'^ 
and * choosed,' for * caught,* • blew,* and ' chose,' ami in some fl 
irregularities of the imperfect, as in * dud ' for * did/ 'rid' for 
* rode,' ' holp ' for * helped ' — the Sussex dictionary may be the 
most classically correct. Yet when we ctmsider the ' plunietic 
decay' which the Queen's English has undergime in the niuutlis \\ 
of tlie railway porters of the nineteenth century, with nil their ^| 
polidh, wo may well believe that many differences between ^ 
the Sussex dialect and ordin.try Kagltsh are mere iiilgarisms. 
We doubt whether Horseniowncey, Tissus, Waddus, and Fow- 
iugton, for Hcrstmonccux, Ticehurst, Wadhurst, and Folkington, 
ara not matched by the unspellable corruptions which assail our 
ears, an we travel d«wn thelirighton line, for * Cmwliiy, Faygate, j 
Iloi'sham, Uuwfant, or Kast Grinstead.' I'be truth is, that many fl 
words which our glossaries bavc collected are not venerable ™ 
archaisms, but illiterate mispronunciations, and many of them 
are not jieculiar to the county. Thus we cannot think that such 
words as the fnllowing deserve tlie placR which has bt-'«ii asalgneil 
to them by Mr. Durrant Cooper* among Sussex prnvineialisms: 
'uicardt,' *arguify,* 'arler' (fur after), 'barnailcs,' 'beck* (a 
stream), 'boulder* (a sea-shore stone), 'brakes,' * callow,' 'clotl- 
hopper,' 'cozey,' 'croft,' 'hob,' 'rowings' (after-grass), 'rut,' 
*rum* (queerj, 'slmnd* (a twist of horsehair), 'U^rrify* (to 
worry), ' to-do ' (subs.^, ' tol-lol,' ' lop-sawyer,' ' wallojj,* aiul 
many others. 

Hnwevcr, those who relish a smack of the true Sussex vej> 
nacular we will iodulge with a stanza or two from ' Tom Clo^ 



* S«c Hr. \y. D. Ctfoper'i ' Glonary oT tkoMX PnnrLaGisUEnu ' (Sad cd.). 

pole's 



I 



J 



Sussex. 51 

pole's Journey to Liinnun, written in pure Sussex Doggerel by 
his Uncle Tim,' leaving it to the learned reader to attribute it to 
either the most high-bred Saxonism or the lowest patois : — 

' For siBter Sal Atb yean a^o A liddle alnes stood close by ; 

Went off with Bquyer Brown ; Tbioka I, I'll go in bero, 

HoQsemiud, or sutumut ; don't know An git, ye sea, a coger loiko 

what, Ov gJod brcDchceso and beer. 

To liTO at Lnmran Town. ¥ • • • 

Jiisy 'hav'd oncommoD well to Sol, Now wost ant was, I cud*nt rood 

Ad ge' or clothes on dat ; Do Icttf ni on de post ; 

Bo Bal 'hav'd naabun well to them. So sometimes I wont roun about 

And grow'd quito tall and fat. An othcrwUe was lost.' 

• * • • 

And whra Tim got to Crayton (Croydon) town, he asked an 
ostler for a bed : — 

* O'l male I cmn » tejtui way, " Ya may lay down in dat dere pen. 

As &r as I be able ; Among dnt good Both hay." 

I'll trate ya wnd a pot o" beer • • • • 

To let me in your stable. 

sum sed I wud o I leather legs ; 
" Whv yaha, ya seem a 'onest man," Sum pointed to ma bat. 

Too stable chap did say. An ax'd ma uf a swarm of bees 

Was housen under dat.' 

Of course, there has always been plenty of folk-lore in Sussex. 
What county has it not? and perhaps from the simple, back- 
ward, manners of the people it has lingered longer here than 
in more advanced districte. There are the pretty legends of 
the fays (or ^pharisees,' as the common people called them) 
leading their mazy dances, under the pale moonbeams, over the 
dark green rings which are so characteristic of the Downs ; and 
of the forest * lilies of the valley,* sown and renewed ever by the 
fertilising blood which St. Leonard, hermit and confessor, the 
patron of prisoners and travellers,* shed in his great battle with 
the dragon. And still the proverb holds that his unmusical 
soul proscribed sweet Philomel, who cannot therefore sing within 
his woodland solitudes. Cuckoo Fair, at Heathfield, every 14th 
of April, is still so called because in popular romance that 
harbinger of spring was then and there first heard out of nn old 
woman s basket Some few people still believe that ' magpies are 
shoed ' at Piddinghoe. And good Sussex folk still love to show 
you, at Mayfield, the veritable tongs with which Dunstan plied the 
nasal organ of his adversary, till its sulphurous composition, 
yielding to the heat, sent the saint headlong to the ground to 

• See ' Batler's Liyes of the Saints,' vol. ii, p. 822. There was in the aorth- 
eait of the forest a chapel to St. Leonard, which probably gave name to the forest, 
through which one of the main roads passed that was frequented by travellers to 
ud from the Coatinent. 

E 2 slake 



slaki! the implement* of lus trade In the neigliboiirtng * Wells.* ^ 
But all these vi&ions of the past are fast fading away before ou 
unromaotic Iron Times. 

In the local nomenclnturr, bcsidt^ the common Anglt 
termination ton (cxrmnlifict) in Alfriston, Alciston, DalUn^on),] 
hurst (ji * woiicl whtcHi yields food for cattle'), whether as %\ 
jjrefii or suffix (as 'I'icehurst, VV'adhurst, Cronhurst, Hcrstmon- 
ccux, llurstpierpoiot), ley (a 'plain near a wood'), as in Hcl- 
ling/ty^ Chidding/n/, East Hoath/cr/ (always with tlic accent on 
the last syllahlr), imtiirally prevail in the Weald, as also do, from 
tlie undulating irliarartcr of the iTounty, tlie Anal dm or dean (l 
' shcltcrwl place') — as in ICast Dean, West Dean, Hotlingdean,1 
Ovingilean, — and combe (a *troup;h-!ike valley,* as in Barcotntx^^ 
Pilcombe), and, from the extent of its seaboard, ey (' island ' orj 
' marsh '), as tJclstry, Peveiisey (tlic Seal's Island, Peoln s Islaoil),! 
&c. Oi ham ('house or manor') — according to the old proverb! 
one of the most common suffixes in English tojjography — 'the] 
cminty ha^ its avcrag;e number; thus we have iTorsham, or 
manor of Horsa, brother of Hengist ' (accortling to the local 
tradition), or perhaps a corruption of Hurstbam ; Shorcham, 
Eartlwm, Hamsey (tlie house by the water), Grafrham> ami 
many others. One other termination should be mentioned — that^^ 
in *ing' — which occurs with unusual frequency in Sussex, caM>^H 
cially along tlic coast. It is the Saxon indication of 'son-ship* 
or descent ; and, where * ham ' is added, marks the site of a 
primitive settlement. Thus Beddingham is the settlement of. 
the sons of B<Hla. Often the additional syllabic has been dropi>edj 
for brevity, Tlie j)refixcs have been well classifieil int«» thossj 
which indicate sobib former proprietiirshlp of the place, some 
ni)'thological personage, Mime historical allusion to events which 
happened there, some topi>gTaphicaI feature, or sonic natural 
object, animal, mineral, or vc^table. From those thus accounted 
for by derivation from the vegetable world, we may learn also 
somewhat of the sifha of our county. Thus in Ashdowm and 
Ashburnliam, Ashhurst and Ashington, is recognised the * war- 
like ash ' of Drayt^m ; in But khurst, his ' softer beerh/ The 
holly and hazel, the willow and the birch, Drayton's other wood- 
nymplis, are also marked in the county vocabulary. The yew»j 
of Crowhurst and Herstmonceux churchyards, the jmks at Cats^l 
fielil anil in ShetTuilf! Pnrk (though perhaps inferior tn iheifl 
Panslianger rival in Hertfordshire), and the nlil decayed bonlerj 
elm at Crawley, will rie with individual specimens from any] 
county. 

And now, leaving the world of antiquity and romance, wt 
must invito our reader in a matter of fact sort o( way to acrom- 



i 



pony 



Sum9, 



58 



pauy u« at the rate of some twenty* or twenty-five mile* for ten 
or twelve dajt together ; whilst, Ixr^itining from the little border 
town of I'^insworlU, we seek to make good the ground to the 
esstem limits of the county. For t\w which, if he has gtiine<1, 
as we oursplve^t did in the suimnerlejts suiiHiirr <if ISliO, suiiitt 
useful hints for bis tour at the annual gathering: of that li-ariied 
Society whose Collections figure at the head of our article, he 
will be all the better prepared ; even though with us he may 
have lamented the exchaiijfe which that fralcniitv lius made of 
its wonted ' ad j>artus ' oration on it& favourite art for a long and 
lieavy dimier. 

The county finds a natural boundary from Hants in the little 
stream of the Kms, which gives its name to the modest hut 
iraprovinjT village which is our starting-point. We will strike 
northward along- its pleasant banks to the villagx* of West- 
buunie, whose name describes the one limit, as Kastbounie does 
the rither, of the Down district As wc lean urer the bridge 
which sp-uis that dancing brook, briglit as crj'stal, weedy but 
pebble-buttomed, and full of nipids, we can fancy how its late 
rccior learned here, ns in miniature, to love the waters 'of 
the Erne,' whose ' Legends ' he so well portrayed ; iind how he 
went forth from his quiet parsonage to confront town mobs on 
Brighton platforms, and throw down the gauntlet fur tlic Chunrh 
he loved so well. Alas! his stout heart will trouble them no 
more. By the pohslied marbles of St. Mary Church overlifoking 
the ivatcrs of Tor-bay — no unfitting resting-place — he is gatlicrwl 
tri his fathers. 

This said little Kms is a wayward streamlet, and we hare tn 
cross and recross it so often, that we forget ^t last which county 
We are in, before w*e can make either that imposing old ruin 
ia the lowlands, or that tempting fir-clump on the hilt-top, which 
is to be tbe Ix-giimiug of our Down walk, uikI is yclept ' Kow 
Hill.* The old ruin, however — Rnctnn Tower — -is disappointing 
enough. It is useful as a beacon, seen far over the levels, for 
shins in the intricate navigation of Thomey Isle or Selsey itill, 
mm! it interesting as having been erected by I^ird Halifax,* the 
owner of Stanstead Park, in the domains of which it stands, — but 
tliat is all. A dash across some boggy meadows would seem to 
plant us on the *Hill ' in no time ; hut we must be patient, and 
ull bock, after a fruitless Hnunder in them, to retiace thr high- 
road, tUt a legitimate footpath appears, and to ruminate on the 
Buml law that the old establishe<l way is generally the safest. 

' Ocorge Dunk, Earl of Halifax, tMctesurely Lonl-l.kutciinul of Ireland mil 
BeereUrj of Suic Unip. Oeorgo III., agfttast vtiom Wilkes obtained ■ rcnlict for 
iwnt, for tb« wiaare of his pap«n. 

'Bow 



1 



* Bow * Hill, ve opine, was so called rnthcr from its shape than 
from tho arms which He Iniried there. Earthworks there ore — 
veritabio British onrs — large enougli ti> t-oiitniii luivthing;, arid 
testifying:, them is litth* dniiht, by the mnatiis wlui:h havn 
long sinrp mtitiltliTril tlirre, to tht* draillv liatlle which una 
WBRed in vnndt-r vnlliry, Kinglev licjttoin, btrtweeu tho men of 
Sussex and the pirate Oanes. liut the whole contour of the hill 
is io like its name, that one necxX not search farther lor a meaning. 
However this may be, here the sar^tm and ludydny folk alike'] 
repair from Cliirhestpr nil thr siimmpr long to flig or picMiie 
tn their hearts' ctmtcnt: and vi^rily a charming summer' 
niornin(;*s ramble from the venerable old city there, six miles 
oW, it is, this same hUUtop, with its sheer turl stiles and the 
chalk patches ^vliich givr such nnggrrAtrd stropncss and picv 
tureMiiir baldness tn thrm, and tliat black fonrst of vcws, birch, ^^ 
and ttioms ht-low, }^rowing so rampantly in the Ut nf the hors^^^ 
bIioc' dcU which eats far into the heart of Uie old hill. 

Follow ing the sinuosities of the * Bow,' we traverse the extreme 
north-west ver^re of the county, and one of its wildest portions, &» 
lar as the beautiful sent of the Fcathcrstonhaughs — formerly of ^ 
the Earls of Tankervillc — Up Park, where the broken ground, ^| 
and |)ark, straggling in unrcstraineil communion with down anJ^* 
heather far beyond tho palings which confiiit? its dwr, give a 
chace-likc ap]>earance to the scene. The bouse contains a 
superb collection of Sevres china, now of enormous value, I»ut 
this is inaccessible to ordinary tourists; and after satisfyin^j 
ourselves of thn gloricit of tlie pros^iecl, including, in the s<>utb,J 
Lady Holt Park, long the residence of the loyalist Carylla, termrl 
Charles 1., and in the foresrround, Liltlegrcen, lately occupimi h< 
Mr. Justice Erskinc, in the distance the Solent, Spithead, and 
St Helenas, and on the north that remarkable view of the wholaj 
Weald (which we shall henceforth command in dill'erent 
varielies from this side the Downs, during the remainder of oui 
lour) — a stiff walk awaits us in every direction ere we can hoi 
to end our evening and talk over the events of the day at ani 
decent hostelry. So nothing remains for it but to breast with 
good heart Beacon, and Marden, and Harting Downs, — Hnrting,1 
the rectory of Cardinal Pole,' — and hasten through Cocking, err 
sunset (for the Downs are ugly customers after dark), to the snug, 
little borough of Midhurst— the country of tho Poyntxcs and 
Egmonts. 

Hard by Midhnrst (at whose grammar-school Sir C. Lyell «a«1 
educated), and embracing the little town, as a great place 
ought, with its ancestral timber rising among the cottages of tlur 
poor. Her Majesty's highway running without pale or hedge 

through 



It 

] 






1 



3u$mi 



55 



tlirou^b a noble ileor park, sUnd thn rrmn'tnsof Cowilray House, 
tlir 1)1)1110 ul" the Montagues, where Queen EHaibeth in 159] 
killeil tlirre or four drrr nitli lier crossbow, uhilc on a visit 
Lttni M'mtajup, who, all papisi as he was, brought a troop of two 
hundrwl horse to tbn (^upt-n at Tilbury, c*)mmanJpil by himself^ 
bis sou, an>] liis graudson, * when Kuropc stood by in perfect 
•u*i»ense to behold what the craft of Rome, the jjower of Philip, 
anil the genius of Farncse could achieve' by the ln\'inrible 
Armada 'atrainst t!ie Island Queen with her Drakes and 
C*H.-iIs,'* Three deaths in one familv bv drowning, and the 
almost tirtal destruction of a fine maiinion by fire, within dtn 
memory of livin|> man, are eiions;h to make one tmail its 
beautiful grounds with feelings of awe, ami to invest it witli a 
sujKTstitious melancholy. Tlircc hundi-ed years ajjo, however, 
llierf was no more festive housp in England, when ' three oxen 
and 1 id ^cesc * figured in its bill of farer for break last. The (lien 
jinjpriflur was a strict discinlinariini, and the ' Onlers and Itules 
of Sir Anthony Browne ' curiously illustrate the domestic economy 
of a great man's family in the sixteenth century, especially as 
rcgtirds its important departments of the 'eweryc* and the 

* but try I',' and t]u>se pirt officers, 'my Sewer' and 'my Cnrver.' 
'Sir,' said Dr. Johuwm, wlien he visited Cowdray from Rrijifhton, 

* 1 ahoulil like to stay here fonr-imd- twenty liours. VVe see herej 
how our ancestors lived.' It is wortliy of n;mark, tlut Cowdrayl 
u one of the numerous manors in the county where the custoii 
of Borough English, or descent of lands to the voungrst instead 
of tlie eldest son, prevails ; and wc may jtidge how that custom 
ol)talii<i In Snssrx beynml otlicr counties, bv noting that, whilst 
in SutTidk thiMe lire but 30 manors so regulate*!, in Surrey 2H, 
and in \Varwicksbire 2, hero theiT are no fewer than liO. 

And Iwyond Cowdray lies princely I'etworth, the home of 
the Percys, Seymours, and Wyndhams, with its antique marblc^ij 
raodern busts and statuary, and choice Gibbons wood cnn'ings, anal 
Hotspur's swurd ; lis majcuificent jKirk, ' Percy to the back-bone^'l 
in ^Vnlpnle's words; and its once stalely stables, 'the best of aayj 
subject's in Christendom, afTordini; standing in state for three sconf 1 
horses, with all necessary accommodation.* Tlic real glorjof Pet- 
worth, however, is its vast and superb collection of pictures. 
SrarccW an artist of name is unrepresented. Here is one of the 
fineftt Claudes In the world ; and some remarkable landscapes by 
Turner, Claude's great modem rival. Pn)b!ibU' no Iiouse in Eng- 
land can boast of more genuine portraitK by Vandyke ; famous 
men and noble ladies, in whose all but living preseuL-e wc arc 



I 

I 



fahly carrieil back to the days of cavalier plumes nnd jiorfumeil 
' Iove-iock».' The numerous mixlern pictures in tlie great Nortli 
Gallpry were rtillcc-twl f(ir tlip most pjirt l>y thr Karl uf KgremODt 
— wliose libpmlily, i" niatti-rs relaliiig Ui art, did not expire wJtli 
htmst^lf. The Pctivoith collirrtioua — uf the utmost value Mid 
intoroit to the student — are at all times accessible. 

Retracing; ourstepstothn summit of GKrking: Hill, nod skirting 
the mirlh side «f Sing^leton FcwTst, wc rw>w pntt^r the G(K>dwo(Hl pro- 

Iirrty, passing tielow uh iu (piick succicssiun OmfTliam, Duntord 
louse, built by Mr. CoIxUmi (himself a native of Sussex), on 
an estate |M-esented to him by the Anti-Corn-Law League, 
and IJarlavingtoii, and Woolavinjjton,* the Bishop of Oxford's 
rountr>'-9cat, (with Burton Park in the more distant fore- 
groun(i), not unobswrvant of tlie Bishop's wire-fenced jn'nut 
and corkscrew wooden observatory iii the wood of Teglease, 
and descending: Into the turnpike road from Chichester to J'et- 
worth at the eighth milestone in tlie hmc village of Upwaltbara. 
Here we should deflect once more from beaten tracks, keeping 
lIosi* under some doliciaus woodland banks. iK-neath fir belts and 
larch plantations, until we find ourselves, after a two miles* walk, 
at the Duke of Kichmond's lodges on Pilley Green, and on tlie ^ 
verge of t}ie far-fame<t racecourse. H 

This splendid course, takin£^ jaded London out of itself in 
the weary dog-davs, has acquiied a pre-eminence for which the 
raeing^ world is entirely indebted to the enterprise of llie late 
Duke, The hill is slngulnrlv adapted for the pur|Mj«e. Situate 
700 feet abo\L* the sea level, and possessing an unbroken land- 
sca]»c in every direction, it catches each jH-rfumed breeze that 
is wafted from land or sea. Here, when all Nature elsewhere 
languishes, the boundless expanse of turf and seaboard brings 
momentary freedom and elasticity to the most careworn, ll is 
unlike Epsom, it is unlike Ascot; you feel you are in a noble- 
man's dntnains, and if not bis invited guest, at least a |icrmitted 
trespasser. On the south — the prevailing quarter from which 
the vegetable world of Sussex turns instinctively — aflbrdiDg 
shelter enough for nil comers, cither from the partial thunder- 
shower or regular dowr»-pour, runs a tall dark grove of fin. 
On the western extremity of the course rises the stately Grand 
Stand, not the conspicuous building which travellers who look 
to the well-known hill from the carriages of the South-Coast 
Railway take it for, but concealed under covert of the grovej 
whiUt the singular conical hill known as tlic Rook's TrundalJ 
(a ['ftrruption probably of Koundalt and Si. Roclic), hoop-shaped 

I^rlaviiigton, tbc tos V vnelflmire of Barlaf. Wools vinglou, tbt too of DIaC 
Bse KeinbU'i * Angle-Sucons.' 




I 
I 




SutMBP. 



57 



and (Innblc trenrhecl, proudi}' Hanks the whole. The course is 
a horseshoe, like? Kpsom ; sci that the sprttators ma^ commaml 
a view of all thu running, but iso bold a ravinr divides jla cxtrc- 
miticfi that no cross-countr}' cavalcade can ho present Iiere, as 
th«rc, at both the starting and the winning; posts. 

Goodn-ood House, or ag it was nnciontly called Godinwood, 
prolrably from the Saxon TJiHlwinus, purchased by Clwrli-a 
r)uke nl' Hi<-htnond from the \ortliatnpton family a century 
and a half ajj^o, posnesM-s no architectural prctenRions ; the present 
buildtn;; is only an addition to a former huntintf-seat. Vet here 
the (alas ! late) Duke of three dukedoms unostentatiously lived 
antl raine<l his hospital rtJes, the model of a true Kng'liah gentle- 
man as he was, for the last forty years. 

In tlic f^juiids of Goodwood is now prcservwl that remarkable 
Koman relic to which we have before (|», iU^) referral. It wag 
found at Chichester in 1713, iu digging the foundations for the 
Coancil Chamber. 

Chirhestrr, one of tlic most ancient cities in the kingdom, 
situated three miles from thi- foi>t of the Downs, must enter into 
an nrcouiit of them. The fii'st we hear of it is as a Koman 
stitton unih?r the luune of Regiium. After the departurn of the 
Humans from Britain and the arrival, as wc have seen, of A'^IJa 
and hi* three sons, it became his capital ; ami when CtssJi, his 
eldest son, succeeded to the king<lom on his father** death, its 
name was cliangeii, and bei-ame Cissan-crjister. Ciss-hury, as 
we shall pn'senOy si-e, ilerived its name from the same s«mree, 
£Iishiip Stigand, in the days of William the ('oiujueror, tratis- 
Cnred the see from t»*laey to Cliichcster: for there was an oldi^r 
one than it Five centuries before a \-esgel had stranded on 
Sebe^r Bill, having on board St. Wilfrid and his clergy retum- 
ing from the continent. A Pagan priest hounded on the 
Sussex wreckers to destroy tlieni, and u ficri-i- struggle ensuml ; 
hat porlnnts attended the saint A stone ftom a sling sank 
into the priest's forehead ; the tide came suddenly in ; the wind 
shiftetl ; tlie vessel got out to sea, and reached Sandwich. And 
again, after a few years, but not this time involuntarily, the 
Northern Bishop, landing at the same place, first won (he hearts ^ 
of die people by teaching lliein the use of their nets, and ihen 
became himself u fishitr of men and taught them OiTistintiity. 
A three years' drought, followed hy famine and disease, bad 
decimated them. By forties and fifties they had leaped from 
the rocks in despair and dashed themselves to pieces. But as 
Bocm ax tlie waters of baptism had impressed the sign of the 
cross upon tlieir foreheads, the rain of heaven fell again — plenty 
relieved them, tlie grateful monarch showered gifts on the 

saviour 



58 



Suaex. 



saviour of his people* itnd stmif^lit a sUtclj monastery arose on 
the site of liis labours, nnil thr sec of ISclMy was Mtablisheil.* 

A complrte mstoratioii of Chichester Cathctlral (a rcatoration 
which must now include its stocpio, that wcll-knonn coontjr 
landmark, whose destrurtinn ail Sussex mourns as thr Ihsb of a 
vcr>' dear friend), has rallrd attention !m its many trpasurf^, some 
of them hmg loKt U* sight under daubs of villahiou5 nhitt-wasli, 
specially to its detacbetf single sliaftsof Purbeck marble — uai(|U<^ 
and beautiful specimens of their class — clustered, yet insulated, 
round their central piers.t The characteristics "f this Ijcmutiful 
cathedral (before the late catnstroplin) have bmi well suroinnl 
up as consisting' of its harmtiny uf external eolunrin^ ; tliL- due pro- 
portiun IirtwtHMi its spiit; itnd tower; the pynimidal gmuping of 
Its variiius parts ; the sffiittrcneis uf the ahari of its capitals ; the 
exactly central p<wition of its spire; the tripUntt/ impressed on 
itstletails; its fine aisles and consequent breadtli of nave; utd 
its south tninscpt wintlow.J Here was Imrn Collius, one of 
niir best Ip-ir jMiets, whi>s(T likeness lircatlies in one of several 
nionumpnts with which Uie genius of Klaxman has enriched the 
cathedral ; and Otway, and Archbisliop Uradwardine; and good 
Bishop Juxon, who accompanied Charles to the scallold, and 
was worthily prnmotrfl bv Ins «>n. Here lies Chilling^t-orth, 
won hy Land from Popery, and described by Tilhrtson as thi? 
* ^lurv of his ag<! ami nntiitn,' And close outside stands thtt 
beautiful rtrtaironal (lothle marl£et-cr*»ss fmiBh(-'d in 1500 on 
site purriijst-d by HisUop Story, and restored in 1734, with itt 
open arcade and buttresses and liuials at Ibe angles, whose nichea 
held choice effigies, till despoiled by Waller's army. And we 
are cm the road again in search for the oh! Homan ' Stamvstrecl ' 
to far-famed Dignor. The skies for once look propitious ; and 
the smoke goes up blue and straight from the cottage roofs ; th 
red pimpernel opens wide iU petals; die distance grows ma 
hiujr ; the swallow dies higher; the phalanxcd flocks spread on 
across the Downs, ami the/lcw liugcrs on the green swonl ; ao' 
the summer flies, that venture not their wings in damp, rome 
Sitting before ns, and fasteu provokingly in hundreds on the hides 
. of the patient oxen, just beyond the reach of their tails. Let ut 
up and t>e going. 

Three great Uoinan roads appear to have traversed Sussex i the 
first from west to east, from Clausetitum (Bittern, near Stmtham 
tun) to Duhrit (Dover) ; the second from Rcynum (Chichester! 

• S«e B«1b'» ' Ew. Hi*!.,' b. vr., o. 13. Mllmati's • HJrt. of Lot Christ 
vol. U., |>. 8S. 

{See Willis's ■ Arcbiuciuml Uictor)' <*f Ctudi«st«r CstltcUraJ.' 
'Bius. Arcbn. CoUecL'p. 147. 



t' 
id 

li^ 

ni^H 



iutaex. 



B9 



tn Lotidinum; and the third, parallel to !t, from Partus Adiirtii 
^horebam) by AlUrinpton, Oitcrliliiiir, HmiUcross, Pea spot tafffti] 
uatp, nod tho Giuiity Oak, intn tlic (tri«t Loiulnti aiul Duvi 
RoAd ID Sarrcv- It is the s^^coml uf thfso ninils we an? not 
apjiruachinfT. Leaving on tlic \ch Haltiakev Down and UiAJ 
KTonods nnd park o( Halnnkor House, — formcrlr n very iiiteH 
mting- »pccimcn of domestic Tudor architectare, but long*] 
linre disniantled and now inrorjKjrated with the deint'snes ofl 
Ciuodwond,- — -«nd on our right one of the most impurtont vx* 
ftmples of Early English arrhiteclure in the kingdom— Boxni-nvoJ 
Church, — the only relic, besides n bam, of fi once lawous Bene- 
dictine priory — we make for Eartham, so lost amon^ the hills; 
that we might well have passe<I it by, had we not a special 
drsin- to lotA in at a spot which won the hearts soecesiively ofi 
VVIlliam H.-iyley * and William I luskisson. It was their favourite^ 
retreat. And verily an invitinf^ scene it is, fitted to recruit hy 
tts solitudes the nerves and eneij^ies of a statesman. Tlie cburcb 
contains a beautiful uionument, bv Floxman, of Hayley's non. 

Emerginj^ from a wood into which we must plunf^e to regain 
our lu-arlng*, we find ourselves on a causeway, here anti there 
ealcn away, hat, as we proceed furtlier, in perfect preservation, 
with its sides all clear and sharp (the cathedral in a direct \\n(t 
firom us. some four miles south by west), the veritable old 'Stnne- 
street' After breasting^ tlie hill for another mile or two over * no 
nun's lands,* and extra-parocliial ill-farmed grotmds^ half rush, 
half fnrze, we are at the highest point, and look down northward 
on the Weald below. The grand design now stands revealml. A 
gigantic raifiral niad, all * metal," had lin-n laid tlinvn from Rcg- 
num tn Londinum as straight as a crow could fly, — which is 
still more prrceptible further up the county, as al Pulborongh 
and Bi]ling:shurst, and especially at Rudgwick ; and hnre was 
lite military station, the * first stage out of town,* all so snug 
nwler the lee nf tlie Downi, with tlic villa of some notable 
grandee. This villa, which so many thousands have since 
cTowde<l to visit, had lain undiscovered, though tmly a foot 
or two l)rnr-iith the surface of the soil, till 181ft, when one 
Fanner Tucker, ploughing with his yoke of uxen his f)wn little 
frcidiohl, i-anip ujwm tin- richral tessellated jiavement in Knj;- 
land. The news filled Sussex — on array of iintli|uarian8 was 
speedily on the spot. Hosts drove their ffuests a score or two 
cf milei from all ports of the county to see the * lion ;* Mr. 

* SwQnnn«rly Rertrw,' rol. ixx'i. Hsyley'g jrmndi^ther bud bran Data et 
Qucboter. EartliuDi Uraune luo ex[wu>tv<; Tor hiiii, au>l after lui sou't desUi hv 
iHircd to bm ' marine livrniitagc,' as be tiscti to call il. wkicb lie liait hailt 'w Uie 
wigtibotiringvillafr^ ofFelfiham, 

Tucker 




Tackcr reaped of course an abundant harvest ; nnil thenceforth 
the pavement of Bignur has been 

hu enjoyi^l a national rrpulntiuti. But tlie titbe uf ibc trrasure 
(lid nut npiK^ar nl fir^U The InlKiiira of arrlinMlrigiBts brought 
more U> lif^ht. Fi^ftsb flnnrs vivtv diiHntvercil, riih in inlaid 
mosaic, their bordi'is tUi; fair [>FOtnlv|K' of tlie diaper patterns with 
which probably, all unconscious of the ilipnity of their origin, 
our readers have chosen to a<lom their hall floors ; llieir interior 
picturr.it with gladintorinl fights and games i>( old Rome in lier 
palmiest days; with n Junu-likc |H)rtrait uf Winter, udmirabtv 
persniufied with a leafless twig in her hand; and the eagles 
Rape of Ganymede, and a Medusa's snake-bound head. 

Having satisfied ourselves with believing rather less than we 
shall Imvir ht-ard of the historitnl statements of ' Roman Anti- 
quities,* which Mrs. Tuckt-T still lives to relate, widi more con- 
fidence than ever did Mr. Adam in our schoolboy-days, we will 
reascend the Downs at Bignor Hill, cross Bury Hill, and leaving 
on the right Houghton woods, and those two very pretty seats 
Dale Park and Sliwlon, wend our cour$e, filling our bosket with 
mushrooms as we go, to the nortli lodges of Arumlel Castle^ 
skirting its three miles of park-wall under its friendly trees, in 
order to avoid the mist which is fast settling into a confirmed 
down-pour, and consigning ourselves for the night t4) the can; 
of our host of the Norfolk Arms, in the gooil town of Arundel. 
'The county is famous,' says Fuller, * for lx)th Anmdel mullets, 
Chichester lobsters, S<d»ey cockles, and Anerley ((|u. AnilM'rlev !*) 
trouta,'and, be might liaveadded. Worthing whcntcars ; so that we 
ought now to be in the midst of these dainties. Tilings, how- 
ever, have much deteriorate*), in this respect at le^ast, since his 
day» for the great London market attmcts away cvcrvthing*. 

The romance of Sir Bevis and his horse Arundel is »t> truly 
Oriental, that it is a pity we cannot, for very conscience, place tt 
among the legendary lore of Sussex. But there were other Sir 
Bcvises to acrount for tlie nni^e of Arundel tower ; whilst, whether 
with Sir W. Burrell we derive the town itself from the dell o( the 
Anin, or with others from the aruwlities on its banks, or with otlien 
from ' hirondelle,' which forms part of the municipal coot-of-anns, 
there is no connertion between it and the war-horse. 

No place in Kngland deserves more notice than the Castle 
of Arundel — a grand pile of building, modem for the most 
part and not capable of supporting criticism; but the irj- 
grown keep, at least as old as the days of Henry L, mMj 
challenge comparison with any of the same date in this country. 
The castlr has not wilhstiMnl sieges as others have ; it is hut ton 
well known for its surrender to Sir William Waller, who took from 



I 




Shucr. 



^ 61 



it sevenlcfD colours of foot, two of liorsc, ami n Uihujuuk) priscmrrs : 
npr U il nssociatetl witli any decisive InttlfS «r cvwits ; but no 
residenci' presents us with. surli a picture of feudal times; nooUicr 
haroiiinl Jiomc has sent forth thirteen dukes and thirty-five earls. 
What house lias been s»i cmiu-ctod wiUi our pfijitiail and reli- 
gious annals as that of Howard ? TTie prt'iiuers in the rull-call 
of our nobility hare been also amoog the most pernei-uted and 
ill iaied. Not to dwell on the hi^h-snirited Isabellc Couiitp» 
Dowa^r of Arundel, atid widow of liu^h, last Earl of the 
Albini family, who u[>brnid<'d Hcnrv HI. to his face with ' vexing; 
the Church, oppressinij; the Ixinmi;, An<l denyiit;^ all his true-born 
subjects tlipir rights;' or Richard Earl of Arundel, who was 
executed for ci>nspiring to seize Richard 11. — we must think 
with indifi^nstion of the sufferings inflicted by Elizabeth on 
Philip Earl of Arundel, son of the 'great' Duke of Norlblk, 
beheaded by Elizabeth in 1072 for his dealings with Mary 
(Juem of Scots. In the biography of Earl Philip, which, with 
that of Ann Dacrcs his wife, has been well edited by the late 
lamented Duke, we find th.nt he wa^i caressed hv Elizalwtli in 
early life, and steeped in the pleasures and vires of her coart 
by her encouragement, to the neglect of bis constant young wife, 
whose virtues, as soon as they reclaime<l him to his duty to her^ 
rendp-red him hated and suspected by the Queen, so that she 
made him the subject n{ vindictive and incessant pcrserutitm, 
till deatli released him at the age of lii^. Ttt anotlier HtiwanI, 
Thomas, son of Earl Philip, the country is indebted for those 
tmsures of the East, the Arundel Marbles ; though Lord Claren- 
don describes him somewhat illnaturedly, denying him all claims 
to learning, or even to gravity of cHararler.* 

Tlie sightof those embattled tciwc-rs ctinjures up Wfon* us many 
historit: |K;rBiinages, whom in fantry we can see emerging fr<»m 
their venerable gateways, in all the pride of youth and ancestry, 
whose mouhlered ashes now repose ander those grey walls. And 
there U>o now lies, alas! added t<^ tlK> number, tlie late kind* 
hearted and amiable Duke, snatclieil away, libe so many of Itis 
forefathers, in the very prime of manhood. 

The tlia[H-l of the 'College of the Holy Trinity,* forming 
the choir and east end of the parish church, but separated from 
it by a wall, and strangely l«"!onging to the Duke i>f Norfolk, 
a, ILimaii Catholic peer, ediitaias a fine scrir-s of Fitzalan 
monuments, which reeal passages of no small importance in the 
history of our rounti'v. 



* • Hill. Bcb./ ytA. i.. ^ »9. 



Tbt 



Sussex. 



Tlic iMuks and brooks of Arun have not been unsunpr tiy poet. 
Nor arc there wanting among them apots of romantic sccnerv. 
Such, for instance, is a natcrmill eallca Swanboumc, of remark- 
nble antiquity. The traveller by the main nnd will miss it, but il 
he will take tlic lower one which Iciuts from Arumlel to the little 
hamlet of Offham, foHowing the right l»nk of the river, be urill 
come suddenly upon it, and be amply repaid for bis trouble. 
Mr. Ticnicy has well described it* 

Quitting this peaceful scene, and still keeping: the right bank 
of the river (wliose eels and bream, which onro full to our rod, 
we see again in twice their natural dimeusioiis tiirough the mag- 
nifying glass of years) till we cross it at Houghton Brid^ we 
are brought to a hardly less interesting relic of the olden time 
iji Amberley Ciisllr, built by Risb"p R<m1p in the time of 
Hidianl II,, and unce tlte rrsidencu of the Ilishojis of Chichester, 
to whom it still belongs. A more picturcsquu ruin docs not 
exist, with it< masaire round towers, and dangling Ivy, and 
smooth lawni within. A mile farther east stands Parbam. Tbit 
is n fine specimen of Elizabethan domestic architecture, and its 
grey gabh's, hall hung witli armour, and long upper gallery, 
carry us back at once to the days of the Virgin Queen. Parliam 
was the home of the Bishopjis, who are now represented 
by its ornicr the Baroness de la Zouch. This lady'a sou, the 
author of the original and charming volume on the * Monos- 
tmes in the Levant/ has enriched the mansion with a museum 
of Kastern art. Parham indeeil ist a j)erfect mine of urt-trcasures. 
Marty MSS. and printed books, ancient platL-, enamels, and 
carvings, historical portraits, and swonls and breaiitptates which 
are hardly less historical— among them some armour of tha 
Christian knights who defended Constantinople against the 
Suttan Mahumet II. , in the year 1452 — arc but a few of the at- 
tractions of the place. And the park affords studies of licautifnl 
forest scenery. But we must not linger here, even to visit tlie 
heronry, nor wander farther from tlie Downs. Mount we the 
steep hill at the back of the Castle, it will repay us though 
it tests the soundness of our lungs, and we shall tread for five 
miles over Kithnrat Down to Flighden IWehes a very nce- 
course of turf for velvety smoothness; then turn we right, 
to enter n still wilder rountry, l>etwi:-eii Black Patch and a. 
loue sugar-loaf hill, Mnunt Harry, rank with luxuriant pas- 
tange, which no foot of man or horse ever crosses aavc the 
shepherd-boy or the racera from yonder Mlchclgrove in thctv 



« 



I 



4 



* Ticni«y'a'llut.af tbcCull«audTo«aof AruodvVp. 7S& 



morning 



SlUMI, 



68 



niarninj^ canter. And so onward to anotlipr qunint nid bill 
called Peppering, covertd with loose woat]»er-woni Rints ami 
wrinkled iritb d^kcs and tumuli, and Anf^imn;; will lie t>olVirn 
us, fanied tor its licruns, wliJcli, ns wc arc told in Air. Knox's 
nlensnnt volume, I'ominL; <iri^inftll_\ fnini Coitv Castle in VV'aies 
in t)ic time ol' James I., fiivt Uxik win^ to Pensliurst in Kent, 
theace fomid refuse here, and, when llieae tnll trees were felled, 
migiated to Par ham. 

A sigh for the cuursuigs on ^Ulftck Patch I ' Wc remember, 
with a ^yearninp f<ir bv-gtme days, those huge undisturbed 
* Voil«T$' {j'alUitcs) uadcr the Ice of tJint junijHrr-studditl hill, from 
which, no unusual thixig, tht- cxjicricncM) eye of keeper or of 
Kbopherd could count in a momiug hi their forms a scdir nf 
strong Dovfu harci. TLcn sprang the well-matched greyhounds 
liuu ihc leash, and all was lost to sight awhile, for puss bad beat 
them up the steep hill-sides, but not for hmg; now, now they 
tum her, and she makes again for Itnmc, imd they kill on the 
table-loud at Muallmni Well lIuiUMt. Oh I there never was such 
a courting -ground as thai ! 

Alas I too, for tlie glories of Michclgrove, when the old house 
was Etaiiding, once t)ie home of the Shclleys, and, in older times 
stUlfjuirt uf the enormous holdings of that great Sussex pturnlist 
De Hntuse ; where wc dance^l the old jrear out and the new 
vcar in, what timt-, in tlie }ialm\ couching davs, our host, great 
in liaudling the 'ribbons,' horsed and drove his own favourite 
drag over the bleak Downs to the ' White Horse' at Fetter l^ne^ 
aod took without compunction the * Something, Sir, for the 
couhman?' Full many a drizzling autumn day you might 
miml him, with hayband for hatband, seated in solitary stato 
upon his box, on his way to 'mildly bracing' Bogiior. Now 
scarce a vestige remains of tlie niagnificeut Gothic mansion on 
which so many thousands were expended, and In M'hich Judge 
Sbeltey entertained Henry the Eighth : and the place thereof 
knows it no more. 

TsJcing the rail to Worthing, and bestowing a thought upon 
that pteusajit hill to our left, just where the engine begins to let 
olF steam, if not upon eccentric Miller Oliver, whose funeml was 
Utende<l there, some seventy years ago, by all the country round, 
Uld whose tombstone surmounts it, we find ourselves in the 
decloral pamllelngrttin, extending thniugh the breadtli of thr 
county with a width of some Um or twelve milt-s, known as the 
IU]Mf of Brambcr — another portion of De Hraose's lion's share of 
the Conquest. The etymology of * Kape ' still vexes the learned ; 
it appears to be tiscd nowhere else, as a territorial term, but in 

Iceland, 



^ 



Icvlanci, and it is remarkable that each of the five districts 
(but mime iiiU> which this county is divided has its own port 
ami castle, Somner thinks the word may be derived from the 
Ariglo-tkixoji ivord rape, 'a rope' — as if these portions of land 
were measured and divided by roi>rs." 

On leaving Worthinjr, Broad water first meets us, with its square 
scmi-Norman tower and rich interior arches, and its 'Green,' 
tliat loved * practice ground,' for dxe County * eleven,' in the days 
when it could bent the Country' ; and Offington, with its gray 
shingle gables, formerly the residence of tlie Lords Delawarr ; 
and, just I)eT<md where the four roads meet, the Mill of Salviag- 
ton — Salvinglon, the birthplace of John Selden ; and Tarring, 
with its luscious fig-garden (^whose parent trees tradition holds 
were brought by Thomas a Beeket from Italy), and its wortliy 
vicar, Sctuthey's son-in-law, who lias found in his * Seaboard and 
the Down' so much vent for his {uistoral musings and exuberant 
aptitude for quotation, but who has not given us, we think^ that 
amount of U*cn.\ knowledge which we had a right to expect from 
the topogmphical title of his book. Soon the woods of Clapham 
oppti on tht* left, and we pass over Findon Church Hill, and by 
tlie kennel from which for so many years rang out the music of 
its favourite * subscription pack,* and Muntham, with its formal 
groves and rookeries, noted for good truffles, and buried, like so 
many Sussex seats, just on the wrong side of the Downs — the 
residence of the mechanician Fraidcland, and now of the Dowager 
Marchioness of Hath, 

It shall be September T2th, and here over the hills, as far u 
the eye can reacb, come on in serried Itands, compact as Mace- 
donian phalanxes, and musical as marria^c-bells, each with tbeir 
sage and shaggy onlcrly, hundreds of Hocks of 8outhdowns, 
all for the great annual shepp-fair «>f Findon — pictures of health 
and beauty, so ciran and criMmy white, for — 

* Tho Bheop-ehearingH arc over, luid harv^ <lrawi3 nigh.* 

It ii a sight worth lingering for. But we must not stay ; for 
Tight opposite, athwart the narrow valley, stands the monarch of 
our SusariL bills, with its many lights and shadows, and outlines 
of niundcil beauty — veSeXrfycperrj'i Chanctonbury. Here we sec 
but the bock of him ; his front, like a king, he presf-nts to the 
fair plains below, for forty miles an<l more: there he flings his 
steep sides down, all sheer and bluff: on this side we shall 
easily ascend him. How stiff and formal is the great Weald 
luapjKd out ill p<'rsjK*rti%'c from his beech -wood coronet! 




Sussex. 



65 



we 



Wliat a calm broods over that vast panorama, thougli 
know tlic busy world to hv as wic-kcd mid unquiet tlierc as elic- 
wberel ilow level all I and yel wo know tJs iiut so — so cotn- 
pletely does a lofty eminence, in nature as in mind, dwindlt; all 
minor incfjuaUtics — fjntciously overlooking ihcra. And then 
thfre is it* twin unwieMy neighbour Cissbury, but two miles off; 
like Chichester, a raonument of Ciua's prowess, bulging witb its 
dce|i and perfect fVisse, and like nothing so much as a hu^ 
sponge-cake: as if it had tumbled by accident among ihiise quiet 
prazing grounds, treeless and shrubless ; and there is pcaceiul 
FindoD once more (for we have made the circuit of the bowl, 
and lo4»k on it from the other rim). Immediately belfjw Clianc- 
tonbury Hcs VViKton Fark, with a halt infrrinr tii none in tlu> 
county, the seat of the ^hirleys and Fit^^s, and throui;b thtr 
Faggs of the Gorings; and then we must descend the bill 
to Steynjng, if not (as wc are much inclined) to tarry for the 
night at its cntnfortnble hostelry, at least to linger in the fim* 
old Norman church wluch c'ontains the n:mains of Klhclwulf 
and St Cuthman. Here, however, tlie imagination of our 
readers must be again invoked, for we arc treading on tlie 
borders of romance; nor can we tell exactly it'Ac/i the saint 
lived. As he was the patron of Steyning, so ought he Ut 
be also of Sussex shepherds ; for he drew a mystic circle witb 
his crouk upon the Doivn, and bade his sheep keep within 
it till he returned from dinner, ami they marvellously obeyed 
bim. Next we find him conveying an aged mother in a wheel- 
barrow ; but the cord, which he bad looped over his shotihlers- 
lo support it, snappetl as hn was crossing a hay field, and tbt* 
hajrmakurs jeered bim ; so in revenge he ever alter sent annual 
riiowcrs about bay hardest to spoil their crop. Mc soon managedr 
however, to prop up his barrow again with elder-twigs ; tliuugh 
they too, in their ttini, gave way. This time, interpreting his 
intprruptttm as a Divine revelation, he haltcil finally, awl 
founded un the »{)ot what was afterwards matured into the parish^ 
church. 

Let us go a mile further, and ruminate in that quaint old^ 
mnrsct of tower at Btamber, which still stands the sieges of the 
south- westers, beat they never so tempestuously ; and rouiKl 
ivhich the daws and rooks are clustering now, as they have clus- 
tercU for centnrirs — the sole surviving representative of tlic 
stronghold and bfad-<|uarters of Dc Braosc ; and from this- 
quiet resting-place there is a very striking finish to tliis bowl of 
DawDKy if we will rmscend them (still on tbt? Chanctonbury 
™nK^)i ■nt't leaving (,'issbury on the right, with the Adur wind- 
ing post the little villages of Coombes, Uotolpbs, and Applesbam 

\'ul 112.— JVV. 223. F on. 




on thr left, and passing over Steep HIU, one of tlic boldest ftnd 
luiiclicst of tlif fiituf range, descend Xjkuciug Down by the 
Mill ami Mr. Wtiodard's Collc^. 

Strolling through the piraaant villages of Laacini; and Sompt- 
iog, and paying especial attention to the church of the latter — 
to portions of which a Saxon origin is assigned— we may retrace 
our slejis to Worthing, and thence set out for the Ixild'^r outlines 
of the eastern di>~ision of the county. Not thai it is so favourite 
a district as the western one: less thriving homesteads cover it, 
for bluff headlands take the place of the rich alluvial plains of 
the seaboard ; fewer mansions ornament its sunny southern slopes ; 
fewer hill-sides are brought under the plough, or ginlleil with 
plantations ; everything is pKjrer, but in projwirtion grander, 
and dearer therefore to the tourist. Yet here the white rliffii 
first appear ; and here the hops come in, vying with those of 
Kent. Here, when summer suns are plentiful, and Scpt<'mber 
has bf owned those lianging gardens, the tmvL-ller will j)n^ i-urnn- 
ture<l througli their phiLsimt vistas and natural arbours, blithe 
with the merry hum of a peasant people storing the easy harvest 

At Shorrham the Adur discharges itself into the sen under the 
suspension-bridge — dispru|virtiaualfly handsome to the town — 
erccleil by a late Duke of Xurfulk. We will eschew those six 
miles of uninviting rcmd, over which William IV. took his daily 
airing thmugh all the Brighton coal-carts, and strike once more 
for the aorthem escarpment of the Downs. It is a bold range 
lbat,abo^-cFulking and Gdburton aitd Castle Hill and Perching, 
aod so to the DeviKs Dyke, where, alas I there is now a {iCTma- 
nent inn, and n two-horse coach to Brighton, and a gipsy or two 
all day from I'oynings — the vicar should know Uus — to whisper 
nonsense to Brighton belles. 

The chief feature of the Dyke is not so much the view, though 
that is 6ne, as the Dyke itself, which, though all the wond 
passes the bead of It in rnming from Brighton, few see, we sus- 
pect, from the right point. ll.s unearthly appearance, if wc take 
the trouble of descending into it, has well procured for it a 
supernatural similitude, and justifies the tradition th-nt the £vU 
One dug it to let in the sea am) deluge tlie county, * eiiv^ ing the 
numerous churches of tlie Weald.' Bui tlte pliui was disron- 
ccrteil — so the \'ulgar superstition runs — by an old wmnan, who, 
being disturbed from her sleep by the noise of the work, peeped 
out of lier window, and. recognising the infernal agent, had the 
presence of mind to hold up a candle, which he mistook for the 
ridng sun. and beat a liasty retreat ! 

That bold, round, forward hill, three miles eastwanl, is 
Wolatonburj- ; below it aire Poynings, with its stately cruciform 

church, 



I 



ff l l WI f . 



B7 



diurch, ami SacldlRScnmli, and Newtimber Hill witb its wood- 
frin*«I down, and Dannv, and a l!ttlc further the lj«iutiful modem 
spire of Hurst pierpoiot, with It« school for the mi<ldle classes. 
But WoUionbury ueservea the three milca' walk, it is so undo- 
nialilv Rnman, ami its cnrtliM'orks amnn^ the most rcmarkahle in 
the conntv. So we will cross dir London rond at Pipc-nmb to it, 
without (we hope) the drenching and bewildering mist wbirh 
OTertook us the Inst time wc explored it We shall return, of 
cooTic, to Brighton for the night, lenring on our right the little 
hill-*nc!oM?d villiiges of Portslade, Hatijflcton, and Blatehington. 
Though standing unrivalled as a watering-place, nod coming 
within our Down circle as esspnttally *a city among the hills, 
Brijchton — whosp old name, Brighthelmston, means the ton, or 
cultivates! enclosure, of perhaps some Saxon j^aXKOKopwrrij'Sf 
or Brighthelm— has few antiquarian or historical associations; 
whilst to fashionable guide-books WR must leave its modem 
pnitsi^. In common witli other parts of tlie Sussex coast^ it 
tras cfflitinnallT bnrassrd by threats of French invasion; as in.' 
1515 and 154S, and again in 1586, on whicb occasions French 
flppts rode in the ofiing, and in one instance eflected a landing; 
anil here, after the battle of M'tireester, and after lying c'^h>-| 
craled at a farm at Ovingdemi, Charles II. tiH>k ship and fl(^ 
for Normandy; and a fulstime inscription is placed in the old I 
church to the commander on that occasion of the ' Royal Escape,* i 
wlio at the Kcstomtion obtained promotion as Constable of| 
Brighton, but figures no more in historj'. 

Of the Pavilion, which so provoked Cobbctt's ire, in his * Rural! 
Rides,' the less said the better. So we shall take our leave of it, 
as soon as wc arc able, by the Ditchling road, and |>assiug Hol-j 
lingsbury Casdc, which is the only archaeological relic in thej 
xubiirl», and the pnrk-walls of Stanmer, shall emerge again <m\ 
the highest downs at Ditchling Beacon, pursue the stem ritlgel 
of Plumpton Plain, with the pleasant villages of Clayton,' 
Kpymrr. Wcrtmoston, and Plumpton below, — mul sit down on 
Rlark Cap Hill above Comlse Place, the pn-tty residenct^ of thel 
SbitTners— a miniature Wistnn under a miniature Clianclonhurjr 
— and so over Mount Harry and the race-course, into the old 
rtniuty-town of Lewes, replete with objects of interest. It was 
Plumpton Plain that Kay had in his mind when he speaksj 
nf * that ravishing prospect of the sea on one haml, and thel 
country- far nnd wide on the other, which those so kcenlj 
rhii live in a fen country, and for the Hrst time visit the 



Io» 



Downs of Sussex.' • 



Mount Hnrry perpetuates the discomfiture of Henry III. by 
the Insurgmit Ixirons, under De Montfort, at the battle oi Lewes, 
on the 14th of May, 12G4. Mr. Blaouw,* has given us a minute 
account of it; how Prince Edwai-U, with his division uf ihc 
Royal army, was victorious in the early part of the day, but 
lost it by pursuing too far the Londoners to whom he was oi^ 
posed, and bore an es|}erial ^uil^e, for havinf^ * insulted the 
queen his mother on her ivay by water one day from the Tower 
to VVindsor, and thrown stones and dirt at her ;' how tlie barons 
were ordered to wear white rifjsws on their hacks anrl breasts, 
to show they fought fur justice ; how tlie Kin^ was routed and 
fled to tlic prior}', and the Prince remained with the liarons as 
an hostfflgc for the jH-rformancc of the treaty they agreed on ; how 
tlie 'Miac' of Lewes was carried out, and how Prince Edward 
afterwards escaped by the swiftness of his hor»', and avenged 
his father at Evesham. 

Here stood for many ages the wealthy and magnificent prlorj 
of Lewes, founded by William de Warennc, to whom tlie Con- 
querur bail given his daughter Gundredu in marriage. The 
noble patrons had set out in a spirit of religious fervour on a 
pilgrimage to Home, but were diverted from their pmiMse by 
the wars then raging between the Em]N^^or and the Pope. So 
they turned aside to the famed monastery of Cluny, and pre- 
vailed on the good abbot there to send them over a bevy ol' 
umnks to take cluirge of their new institution. Straight the 
stately structure arose, and for five centuries received coimtlcss 
treasures into its coffers, so that it became the wealthiest founda- 
tiuo in the south. Then came the great reverse — the Diasola- 
tion ; and all its greatness jwissed away and was forgotten, — all 
but a slab forming Gundreda's uiatbh? tombstone, rirhly sculp- 
tured in bas-rclicf, which was found about a century ago in the 
chancel of a neighbouring church. The discovery of its most 
interesting monument was reserved, as in so manyotlier cases, for 
humble instruments. The land liad jKissed through the cumpuU 
sory clauses of a Railway Act into the unromantlc clutches of 
the London Brighton and South -Coast Company, and the 
navviis scra]>ed their pickaxes by chance one day against the 
veritable leaden coffins of the noble founders. Lewes, ever the 
headH|uarters of Sussex archictilogy, was in a ferment, and so was 
the county. A fitting receptacle was soon deviseil for the bodiciL 
Tliey had l>een found in the parish of Southover (and certainly 
may !«■ said tu have gained a legal settlement there, if anywhere). 
— in Suuthover they should remain. A small Nurman chapel wu 



■ The Bsrons' Wsr,' Ij \Y. B. BUauw. 



Lwdoii, 1844. 

accordingly 



SiufCj; 



« 



accorilingl}' built—* Gumlreda'E cliaprl ' — ncljiiining tbe mother- 
church; and there He the coffins side by side, open to any one 
to inspect. The bejiutiful black tombstone is reclaimed, and 
laid drcontlv on fnir cnmustic tiles. 

In a garden behind a cIkijwI in tJii' Inwn U thf burving-place 
of tlic eccentric William lluiitington, with an epitaph on lits 
tomb, dictated by himself, brginning — 'Here lies the coalheaver, 
beloved of his God, but abhorred of men ;' and signed * W. H., 
S,S.' (Sinner Saved).* 

We must not leave Lewes without exploring the singularly 
detachc<l bowl of I>i>wns, which rises immediately behind it, 
befjinnin<( with the 'Clifie,' and endinfj^ with that abrupt and 
conical Inndniark Mount Caburn. But the Hifle V'ohinteers may 
be out. Tliry are very fond n( the deep ravines whirh abniind 
there, and serve as natural Imlts fur their practice-pnninds, Sii 
we must keep an especial limk out for red danger-flags. But 
if all is well, the insulated position of this group of hills will 
enable us to command the whole northtirn ridge of die Dtuvns, 
looking across tlie Glyndc and Palmer valh-ys to the east and 
west, and down the Li'wes Levels to Newhaven to the south. 
We tread here, too, among many vestiges of the past — haunts 
dear to tliose staunch Susses men, who have done so mucb 
for the catisc of provincial archieology — Mr. Blaauw, Mr. Bleu- 
cowe, and Mr. Lower — as the many remains preserved in the 
keep of Lewes Castle, the peaceful emporium now of relics of 
more troublous times, will testify. Here, too, we look down 
on a. snccession of pleasant villages — OfTham, and Hamsey, niid 
Ringmer — the latter with the comfortable mansion nf Mr, 
Brand — and S»outh Mailing, an archiepiscnpal manor of Can- 
terbury, and as late as the fourteenth rentury invested with 
•upematural terrors from t!ie popular tradition connected with 
the morderers of Beckct, so wcjl t"!d by Dr. Stanley in liis 
■ Memorials of Canterbury :' — ' Tliey rode t*t Siiltwoud uie night 
of the deed : the next day (forty miles by tLe coast) to Soutli 
Mailing. On entering the house they threw off their arms and 
trappings on the duiing-table, which stood in the hall, and after 
■npper gathered round the blazing hearth. Suddenly the table 
started back, and direw its burden Ui the ground. The atten<l- 
anta, roused by the crash, rushed in with lights, and replucc<l 
the arms. But soon a second and still louder crash was heard, 
and the various articles were thrown still further off. Sidillers 
servants with torches ccramblod in vain umler the solid 



* See in snicle on the ir. irks of the Kev. W. Huntlngtw, ' QuAlt«rl; Rcrier.' 
vol. xxiv., p. 462. 

taUe. 



70 



Suasei. 



table to find the cause of Its convulsions ; till one of the con- 
science-stricken kniglits suggested that it vfa$ indignaotlj 
refusing to bear the sacrilegious burden of their arms — iho 
earliest and most memorable inktanrc/ odds Dr. Stanley, 'of » 
rapping, leaping, and tuniiiig table,* * 

Here, to<», are the Lewies Levelti, whifdi, accurding to Gideon 
Mantell, himstdf a native of Lewes, hare seen so many 
sequences of physical changes, liaving been originally saltr 
water estuaries, inhabited by marine shell-fish ; then, as the 
iidet gn:w narrow, and the water only brackish, frcfih-watcr 
shells were fir&t mingled with them, and then predominated. 
Then a peaty swamp, formed by the drifted trees and plants 
from the forest of Audrcadswald, and Icrn-strial quadrupeds, 
b^^camo imbedded in the morass ; lastly, the soil, iuuudated 
by land floods, became an oozy marsh, which has been since 
converted into a fertile tract-t Here, too, we gaze with won- 
der at the many churches, some without a house near them, 
which testify cither to the thriving sea-side population of remote 
times, or to the piety of our forefathers, or l<) Ixith. Within the 
narrow comjm&s of the Levels we trace between Lewes and New- 
haven (a run of five or six miles only) no fewer titan nine or ton 
churches : — On our left, Beddingham and Ucighton, and Toning 
Neville and Denton; on the right, Kingston and Southcasc; 
Kodwcll ; Piddlnghoc, with its singular round tower j and Tels- 
combc, probably the most retired village in Sussex. And so we 
drop down by mil i>r water tii Newhaven, where Louis Philippe 
and his Queen landed after flying fruui Fnuicr in the ch^iructcr of 
Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Nothing prevents Newhaven from becoming 
a first-rate icatcring place, but its water^ which the old p«'opIc dc- 
scriljt' as ' very aguish I' So the hotel is supplied frum Lewea, 
Ncwiiaven Church we have ulrendy mcntioni-d. TTn' view, as we 
climb the 'Castle Hill,' becomes very suiking ; whedier we loc^ 
npon a ripptclrss hot sea, with the arriving and departing daily 
ContiDcnial service boats in the otling, easily cicuvitig the satin 
sturface, or whether, as Is more frequent, the great billows come 
boiling and surging in against tbe headland under a soulli* 
wester ; and the pitching naft labour to make the narrow har- 
bour, straining through every cord and timber. The Sussex 
geolo^st bids us look again at this hill, as one of tbe * wonders 
" geology j' for immwliaU-ly lirneath the turf, 150 feet al»ovc 
sea-level, if we will examiun it, there is a regular sea-beach 
with oystcr-shclla, and other marine remains. The same phe- 



* ■ M«m. of C«nl«rbui7,' p. 8«. 

t • Wondere of Gvologj,' vol. i, p. 6X 



Domenoily 



Slt$9€X' 



n 



Domenon, due to the change which time has prrxluced in thiftiiig 
the onginnl position of the strata, occurs at KottiQ<;dcan. 

R*-tuiiiiiig' inland, :iml kpepiixg- the high ground behind the iiw 
liule villu<^-i wc have ainmdv nainei], on the right Imnk of the 
Oose (of which Kingston gives ite name ti> the most rotn- 
maoding hill of the bowl), we make once luun- fur tlie quueu 
of watering-places. As wc near it, still keeping the high graund, 
we meet, fur the first time fur several hours, an^'thing like cuui- 
pan}' ; equestrians trying the paces uf their summer hacks on 
the natural racecourse, with smart grooms behind them ; and, 
OS we get n(*arer, sch(xjls of either sex braving the breezes, and 
boys collecting with jtrauze nets bluoand-brown-tinted butterflies 
for inaseums and entomutogists ; as the 'Grayling,' and the 
*Corydon' or 'Chalk Hill blue,' the * Artaxerxes,' and the 
'Grizxiud Skipper.' Then, if we diverge to our left, when wo 
reach Newmarket Mill, and the New Brighton Union (which its 
guanliang have planted on so bleak a spot that wc only hope they 
d(i iMil stint the'|>anpfTs' fuel), we ought not to miss thr tlirrt- nrans 
— WiKlinj^ran, Kotlitigih-nn, nnd Ovingtlean ; the latter a well- 
carefl for little villaf^o, UL-sj>eaking tlin prcsenci! of a gentle 
squire; — and we shall have lost nothing by the d^our of more 
importnnce tlian tliat grrat county landmark and eyesore — the 
Brighton Race Stand, which, except in the first week of August, 
is about the must uninteresting edifice in Kngland. Aud 
su, following the rarl-ride from Ovingdean, we shall come, in 
a short quarter of an hour, from one of the quietest little villages, 
into the midst of the gay esplanade and stately mansions of 
Kemp Town. 

The cltiT-wulk back from Brighton to Newhnven is hardly 
worth the trouble, so we will transport ourselves thither next day 
by the acute-iuigleil railroad, and get on our feet again there for 
the Scaford b»twl. Tlus now neglected town of Seaford is 
perhaps the most interesting one of tlie entire coast. A member 
of the Cinque Ports, and prosperons long before the ('iuque 
Port* themselves, returning two Members to Parliament till ^the 
Heform Bill, a Cor^wration from the time of Ucury Vlll. (and 
not retaining, wc may be sure, that privilege without tlie s<|uab- 
bles and jealousies incident to small munlcijmlities), L'sposed 
taare to the former devastations of the French,* and the present 
ravages of the sea (which here breaks full on the unprtitccted 
shingle), than any other place along the coast, it deserves more 
thmn a passing nutice, though we must refer for its full memo- 

' • What time the FTvuch wugbt to bkra nckt SsaToord, 
This Pdih&in did rt^pei 'em \mek nboord.' — 

Sir Xidivta* PeOtam't ittmvmetU in 8t, Sfkha^i Chur^ t«vet. 

ti&U 



I 



rials to on able and interesting article by Mr. Lower, in the 
Sussrx (Villfttion*. But wliere is the port? No vestige of it 
remains: the tradition l)eing that the sea ones came in on ths 
present beuch and tDWii frum the East Cliff, flowing up the vallpy 
ns fur as Sutton, and that the salt mnrsh, nnw such a iliaadvaiibigs 
to tlic place, was in fact the harhnur, communicating with the 
Ouse and flowing oul at the Tide Mills; the opening at NVw- 
haren beinp, as the name seems to indicate, of artifuial and 
modern origin. In the snme way the Adur, at Slmrt'ham, has 
been deflected from its original course by an enormous shingle- ^^ 
bedj which obliges it to follow a course |)ataUcl to the K* for^H 
the last two or three miles. ^^ 

Here is Seaford House, formerly the residence of Sir Julm 
Leach, who rpjirrsenteil the iHirough in Parliament, now ^M 
standing forlorn, with its cleiiml ii^-covercd porch and garden ^| 
overrun with weed* ;• and Corsica Hall, haunted ever sine? 

Lord 



* Sir John JUach vsi a &moai leader ia Chsuccry ia Us ^ ; aftcmnls 
Vice-ChanpHlor, intl fiuslly Master of tLc Kolls. 

' Nar did he obsDge. bnt kept in ]ori7 place ' 

the clianetcr ns«j^m-<l io him by Sir Gcur^o Ita«« in a jeo-d'nprit, tbc point 
of vbich ban suifvnril a little in the hands of l^nl Eldon'a biographers, Mr. 
TwittSDd Lord CampbelL llui true tcxi, wv know from the highesi aathority, 
ran tbuB:— 



I 



I 



Mr. L«Bch 

Made a tpt-L-cli, 
AapTj. neai, tkbd wrong; 

Mr. lUri, 

Ou ihn other part, 
Was right, anil ilall, aud laiif>. 



Mr. Parker 

Made the caw darker. 
Which «ns dark et'ODjjh irlthont; 

Mr, Cookv* 

Cited a tmuk. 
And the C)ti>nCL-llor aald, ' I dwibt.' 



Mr. Twi» gooduaturedly iugj;e«t» tliat 'Parker' waa taken merely for Om 
rb} me ; but we are auurpil that this was not (o, and that the vena rcpref«oi th« 
letual Mxier am] vimiHurt at ihc .-irguTnent. IK the favntir of the accompUsbed 
aathor we are eiiabU-d to [ny before uur readers his own history- of thii production. 
*lu iny I'Siiiest year at the Har, Kilting idle aitd listless rather than liiteninK, 
on the Imck ly-nehei of the rourt, Ve*ey, junior, tlie reporter, put hit notelxxJ; 
into my hand, cayiug, " Row. 1 aiu obliged to p> a^aay. If auyuung oectiis, take 
a note for ue." When be rclomcd, I gave him back his iiotubcnk, and iu it the 
fair Iteport, in effect, of what had taken place in hit ab<iene« ; and of courve 
fboBgbt no more about tt. My fliort Report was w far en ro/'V, that it caax oul 
in wfn^tf'-f. though certainly tnje sc'ntir. it wm about four or five yrsr« afterwai^ 
—when 1 MM beginning lo get into hiislnesa — tliat 1 hoid a motion tn make before 
the Chancellor. Taking up the paper ((he •• Morning Chromicle "} at brcakiast, I 
there, to my *urpr»c and alaraa, saw my unfotlouate Keport. *" Here's a pvcltif 
I'tikioeM I ' aaid I ; "pretty chance bavL> I, having tbiu nmile aiyielf known lo 
the Court as Mtirixiug Ixnn Ikneh and Rar." Well, an Twto indy uarratM, 1 
made nor nwtion. The Chaseellor lolO mc lo " take notbing" by it, aud added, 
"and, Mr. Ro#e, in tbia caie, the Chursccllor dnes notdDobl." Bat TVia* hai nnl 
told the wholr story. The aneoilnle, ai he fanf left t1, conT«yi the aotion of ■ 
taoaling ditpleased retaliation, and remindi one of the Scotch jndge, who, after 
jwOBOiuicing t«&teacc of death upon a former eompaaton wbnm he had fannd It 

difficult 




SiU4tX. 



78 



Lurd N'npter's son sbot his tutor doid in play. And here 
or herrtilumts wrrr long prrseivcil tho bones of ihf firtt Cliristiau 
lady of Sussex, the virgin inart^T and saiot, Lewinna ; and 
here wu the bcst-cnclowMl lazar-housc in the county. Senfonl 
anems to possess .ill the rajuisite* for a first-rate wateriuR-place — 
a fiiit- bliiff hradlnnd witliin a Indv's unik, and ucarlv equal to 
Bea<:'Ii\ llt-nd for ^niridi'ur ; a trieaii, IkiUI, shioglv l>eacn, and 
deep water, well screeueil from tiie north and aj«'n tn the* sunny 
south ; witliin two miles from a daiiysenice packct-fitntiim ami 
railuay-tcrminus^ and itself soon likely to become one. \Vhat 
should prercnt it from hetn); n second Brighton, but that oozy 
salt-mnrsh, which yet with n little capital and enterprise uiighl 
be drained, if a good sea-wall were erected ? Kven now 
London doctors — not lu mention the Htm. London Aitillery 
Company — arc doin;r their best lo regenerate and bring it 
into notice again. The former will liave it there is notldng 
malarious in the stagnant manih right in front of your lodgings, 
and are buying up tlic land and persuading their (vitients 
to try the air ; and the latter arc one of the bcst-bchared 
mililnr^' corps that ever cormpte<l a town, and keep the little 
place— which, we must own, wants some enlivening— in a state 
of continual animation during their month's annual holiday under 
canvass. SKam-fighls .-md sham-sieges are to he Itnil in abun- 
dance ; and though one may be suddenly awakened in the night 
witli the cry of ' the enemy at your gates ! ' there is not much hann 
in this. But the rwl dnngr-r-sigunl flies so often on the shore, 
thut all thill enjovmenl, wliieli S!i. Waiier will tell us we share 
with old Cicero, of going about ' picking up cockles ami winkles,' 
is spoiled ; for when we liavc just composed oursolvc* on a 
pleasant eminence of shingle, in very vacancy from toil, to toss 
the surf-woni |>ebbles into the sea, or to niniinate over die snc- 
ceaaei or disappointments of another London season, we are not 
by any means secure from tlie invading whiz, far too near to be 
agreeable, of a more than imaginary bullet. 

From Seaford we again take to tlir Downs, and, kccptni^ a 

difficult to brat al cleu, is alkged lo lisvc oAHkA, " aiii nov. Donsld. my nsu, 
I've cfarck-uifttitl >(iii ((.T ancc I 

' If Twit* liutl tjiplinl to me [T wiUi be fasd, for l^nt Udon's takt), 1 might 
ha*c told bitn wbat hori Eldoo, in hU lunnl coiutdrrBtion tar young bcginnera. 
fnnlwr dW. Thiuking tliat 1 might be (a* t iu troth w»»j raiber diiooncrrtrd 
M to gaexpected a conirvtetuM, nr scdI me iluwn a itol? i» tliu vHvct th^t. >o 
Av ftva being nffinded, ba nsd bM^n iniieb pleaHd wi'.h a pla;rii1neti> attri- 
botid to IDC, Bcd hoped, cow ibal butiuccs vas approacbiog nn«, [ ihould (till 
flod l««irc far sume relaxntiuii ; and be was aftervanU invariably court«oiu ond 
kind ; nay, not only promi«<l ir.e a nilk gown, but uclually— tiidite I'osieri — 
tBvilcd me to dituier. 1 hsxe ncTtr knoira how that i«np (irbicli, like a 
chaDMTy tutt which it reports, promiaes lo be tiuffinal) toxioi iti way into print.' 

north- 



noTtli-wcsterly direction, soon find ourselvea at Bishopctoae — a 
rcry model village for picturcs(|ueuc3s, with a sin^lar old church 
well restored. Hero a jwrk-liko meadow, with aristocratic 
trees* tells of »uine noble owner and mansion now no more. For 
here KlfKNt Rishnpstone Hniisi*, Cormrrly the occasional residenCA 
of'lliomas Fclham I>uko of Newcastle. A mile yonder, in the 
■till more sequesteral Itamlet of Norton, livrd another, thoogh 
humbler, celrbritv. James Hunlis dii; vicar, iht friend of Hajlej, 
autlior of tliH ' Village Curate,' and Professor of Poetry at 
Oxfoit], cutofTat tbtrly-ci^it. And lo we miue along the bank* 
of Ottte on to the brow of Bedding'ham Down — an cxhilarattag 
vallc over the cwe-bittcn turf, bo short, and fine, and sprinicy— ' 
and then along the summit of the Downs, due ea^tHard, till we 
are over Firlc Park, where we must ret^line awhile on one of the 
■cats which Lord Gafr^ has placed on the Beacon-top. And 
soon we aro above Berwick Mill ; and then a number of 
st^lternd villages crowd IkIow us — -Berwick, and Selmestoo, 
and Alriftton, and Ripe; and, nfler carrying away with 
us a specimen or tM-o of calcareous s|iar from yon gapimg 
chalk-pit, we halt at the old Saxon rillagp of Alfristoiu The 
siee of the singular cnirifnrm church, its ancient houses, its cross, 
and the lone circular hill at the wfastcrn i-xtriTniity of the |iaruib, 
knoWD as Five LunU' Iturgh, tngclher with its sittialiou on whatJ 
was dp'idently once an estuary, lead to the belief thai it was* 
formerly a place of imjiortauce ; ami we know it was within 
the liberties of Battle Abbev. Here, though we may not com- 
pare it with Mr. Hugfacs's fecrltidiire Vale, we must |nirsuc the 
valley seaward for a mile to note the Su8«<.>x White Horse- — a 
piece of rustic sculpture carved on the declivity of a steep hill 
above the Cuckmere. 

Crossing the river at Excet— once a distinct parish, but now 
only Kivinp its name tn the Im'dge — we pass tlie peaceful villagei 
of West Di-an and Littlingtjm, the former almost hidden from 
sight, with a real fourteenth-century ]virsonagc still unaltered; 
and Lullington, where wc hare the smallest church in the kin^um 
(but only the cliancd of the original building), standing alone 
in a cornfield. At Wilmington, a jnile furtlicr, we have nnother 
attempt at rustic art in a giant carvctl on the turf, witli both 
arms erect, and in each a huge staff, the work probably of the 
idle hours of some Benedictine monks in tljc old priory below. 
Tliis village will remind us of our English Virgil : 

' To thoe, the patron of her iirat essay, 
Tbo Maaa, Wilmington I renewB her song.' 

The Downs here become extremely bold and pictuivs(|ue in tlior 

shapes, 



d 



SUMMBX. 



T5 



ami the briny tonic of the sva-bnx'zcs more jMriceptible. 
We cross Folkington dill above the village of tltat uamc, aiid 
&kirtu)ff the very lonely village of JcTington, leaving Fristoii and 
East Dfan a Uttic to our right, fimi ourselves arrived ofl" Wil- 
luigdon Point, at the easTeriim(»t an^le of the Dunns, to fpjoy 
the unnvallci) sea and land view which opens out below as — 
fniin the hills around Winchelsea in the nxlreme east, to the Isle 
of Wiffht on the south-west, with the entire Weald mapped out, 
backed by the distant Kentish hills. Eastbourne, that t'avourito 
watering--plare, appears UOow us, with its fine old parisli church, 
and modern dislrirt cliapels at tlu: sea-side,, anil Katton, and 
Comptua IMacf, the residi-acc of the Tcnerable molhiT of the 
Dake of Devonshire, and the g^ouilds of the late Mr. Davies 
Gilbt^ tlir President of the Royal Society, with tJiose massive 
martdlo-towers on their Imy of shingle ; and the dark, ivied 
walls of Peveusey in the further back^ound, h'iug, like some 
old senduel of the past, on that great allavial plain deserted by 
the sea which otice washr<l the Roman walls. 

Eastbourne owes much to Btachy Heiid.* It shall be the annual 
regatta there, and a fine day, without too much 'wind on,' if that 
11 possible there, and what there is from the west ; so that the 
old guardian headland shall keep the water down enoug-h for the 
galleys to pull in ; and a heavy summer stonn, just when it 
threatened to mar the pleasures of the day, shall have split, as so 
roonT do, and gone out In sea, attTarte<l by that kind old light- 
ning rnnductor. All ts liriglit. ;ind ^y, and calm. And you 
will not siHin matt:h tltat pretty holiday seaside scene. It is a 
motley gathering of ear-ringed tars ; and tawny tunickctl hrrrimg- 
lishcrs, and ploughbojs from the Weald, of all England's children 
the most unnurtured ; and the gentler shepherd clan ; and the 
opm-bmwed coastguard ; and plenty of l>e-jcwelle<l visitors, you 
mav be sure, stron;; in seaside slang and garb ; and a surly smuggler 
or two, dehant of customs-officers, remnants, it may be, of the 
notorious Hawkhurst goug which was demolibhetl a century ago, 
and whose riiigleadei-s were gibbeted, to scare the coimtry round, 
on SeUey BUI aud the Rooks Trundall. 

We and our children may laugh at smuggling as a good juke. 
But it Mras no joke at all not many years back. It was a very 
serious thing for Sussex, and sorely demoraltzetl its peasantry. 
Closely allied to it was otrling — thai Is, tlic transporlaliun of 
wool or sheep, 'to the detriment of the staple manufacture of the 
caaaSxy.* An Act of Elizabeth had punished the first offence with 



* BeaiuA^ /r«aJ, a laaloU>gy, like WeetminrifT AM>*y. 



forfeiture 



TorfciturB of goods and a year^* imprisonmenl; at the oooclusion 
of which, however, a sorer pcnnltv remained, the cutting off of 
die left hand 'in some open market-town in the fulness of the 
market, on the market-dav/ and nailing it to a conspicuous 
place ! • The second ofTence was felony. Ky anntlier Act,t owners 
of wool within ten miles of tJie sea were to jjive an account of their 
number of fleeces within three davs of sbearinp-, and where they 
were ItHlgod. Smufjgling and owling tlien were the bcsetttn^ sins 
of Susscjt. The former peculiarly lempteil it as a. maritime, the 
latter as a nastornl, atunty. The imimrt sinugp'linf; was the most 
serious. 'I ea was its principal object. In 1737 the frays be- 
tween tlie * gangs ' and Uie cnstom-huuse officers first drew blood : 
soon livej were lost. At Goudhurst they reacheil their worst, 
when- in a pitched bnlth? all tbf arts uf a miniature war wc; 
resorted ti>. The crowning piece of audacitv was in 17'i7, whi 
emboldened by success, the gang; broke into Poole Custom-I loi 
and rescued a quantity of tea which the revenue officers 
secured. From open battle to secret murder tlie tninsitioo w. 
easy, and a murder of no common atrocity was committed, 
special assize was held in consequence at Chichester. Seven 
the j;ang were condemned to death, and six hangc-d : the oOier unt 
escaped by dying on the niglit of his sentence. The illicit 
in tea and silk gnulually disappeared; but that in tobacco 
spirits continued, though witli diminishe<l Imrharitics, till wlthi: 
the last twenty or tliirty years. The last occasion on which li 
was sacrificed was, we believe, at Winchelsea, in 1838. 

Taking our leave of these sad thoughts, we will thread that narrow 
path, sn inviting, that runs between cWtTand cornfield, and follow it 
till it is lust in the green tracks ; 'ware of tliuse landslipn, nnd the 
fissures whicli will soon become such, and lluit dizzy jxiint do 
which noble hounds have been known to go in couples, soon 
tlian lose their scent, and where a too eager botanist not long si: 
missed liis footing and was dashed to pieces; and we stand 
lleachy Head, still the dread, though nut as once tlic grave, 
mariners; fur a goodly light-house now buriu it* nightly oil 
t<> the salvation of thousands, and a station of the mercantile tele- 
graph cummunicates ship-news to Lloyd's; — and, though dreadful, 
still the Ixrst of our hilts, whose purest ami keenest breezes bare 
revived so many languid frames, and strengthened so many a 
tottering brain, and sent back many a dyspeptic valetudiniuian 
invigorated for the duties of another year. Off IJearhy lleail.on 
the SOtli of June, IGdO, took place that sea-fight between the 




• 8 Hii., c. S, 



t 7aiuI«Wia.III.,«.as 




Sttster. 



77 



I 



I 



Frcnt-li umlpr G^uiit dc Tuurvillc, and the allied fleet of England 
aiitl Hullanil utuler Lord Torrington, wliirli Englishmen scarce 
care to remember. 

The chiel features of historical interest in the eastern division 
of (he county arc iimiucstioiiablv its Cinque Ports, or more cor- 
rectK, ils Cinque Port of Hastings ; for its ' nneifnl towns ' of Rje 
tuul VVinchelsca are but * tiMIiura memhni* and not very ]>orts 
indeed. The less noble mvmhra of Hastings are Pevciisey and 
Seofbrd, which are corjwrate, and five villages unknown to fame, 
BuUTrhithe, Petit Shaw, Hidncy, Bcnkcsboumo, and Grange, 
which are uniiicorporatf. Their present state belies their original, 
ret let us nut think of it meanly. L«ng ere the Auhi Rcyi* 
nod any fixed hiihitat, or Mnpna Charta was won at Runnymctie, 
or our ' two Houses ' were heard of, these barons of the Cinque 
Ports were great men. Who were they? Plain simple inha- 
bitants of the privileged town and port. Vet thesi? hardy seaside 
nuu'iiiLTs inaiiiifd tlie wumh^n walls of England, And kings knew 
it ; and so the contract ran belHt-en them — ' If you will Jo us 
ser>'ice, and be always ready to equip us ships, you shall be among 
tfur favoured ones,' So Hastings found three, and Scafurd one, 
and WiwhelsL-a five, and Rye four, and Peveusey one, and the 
compact was scidcd. 

Thiise were grainl days lor the old Dai'ons. Fortliwith great 
eivic iieals were cast; silk pennons, insignia of their might, 
fluttered from tower and galley to the breeze. French wines 
filled their vast subterraneous stoivhouses. Fremh rrfugeps, in 
times of persecution, flocked in safely to their keej>s ; crowned 
heads mwle progress and held revel here, and Winchclsea was a 
•little London.' One unenviable diatinctlou too thevhad — aChan- 
ccTV at their own doors, and a private Chancellor! At the royal 
right hand was the barons' srat at every coronation hanqurt — to 
be the iM'arcrs of the silken romnation canopy was their proudest 
privilege. Another was tlu- right to send bailiffs yearly to Great 
Yarmouth to auiJerintcnd the annual forty days* herring fair there. 
This superintendence, ns the town increased, was resisted and 
resented, and great quarrels ensued ; the one party endeavouring 
to preserve tbeir ancient jurisdiction, the other to wrest it from 
them : and to this tlay Great Varmoutti pa}-s a yearly tribute 
of herrings to Windsor Castle (or composition monev for it) as 
M mulct for a brawl, in which one of its baiUfTs killed one of 
the ixirt's bailiffs. 

Then came reverses — storm and tempest first made the breach. 
Rye harbour was choki-d up, Hastings harbour was swept away, 
Wincbelsea was almost swallowed up alive in the thirteenth 
century ; and when it was rebuilt in a safer situation, the 
capricious 



78 



SsttKh 



capricious sea. fortook it Then Freach and Spanish spoilcxs 
csme, and (hen political and moniripnl ferments, Treasi 
inttmtdatiun, am! romipt rlft-tions, anil a gfuxlly arra^' 
mandamusei and quo irarraiitos : and petty freeincn racltc 
learned brains in sulcmn trials mth disquisitions upon 
ttym. Thus we find a golrmn cause in the * State Trialt ' l> 
fore Lord Hardwicke, on oiw^ Henry Mofjre's claim to be * fr 
of Hasting' wherein he at length established tliat right fo 
every 'eldest son of a freeman born after his father's freedoi 
within the borough, without respect to residence.' TTie Refor 
Bill dealt hardly with their electoral rights. Schedule A ex- 
tingaishcd Seaford and Winchelsea, and Rye only found bet 
terms in Scheilule B. Now the Queen*s writs nm here 
elsewhere, and no Chancery is held, and the Court tif Shej 
way, and the Brotherhood and Ouestlinf; Court at Komnei 
are forgotten thinjis, save when a new Lord Warden, of 
dnnp energy, resuwit-itrs them for a momrnt, nn<l by 
force of '1 kiudiv inia|;inatinn rf-mlls tlie dejiarted gbiries of 
Cinnue Putts ; and although bailiffs anil Jurats are still livii 
entities, those representatives of England's old marine arii 
cracy till peasant farms on aguish marshes, or wrap 
candles in the print of s*)me ancient custumal, mourning ovt 
llieir ancestral greiitness, wilh an occasional petition to Parlii 
ment, or a bowl of desjiair to that gn-at receptacle of all uegU-ctc 
mediifvalism, the Sussex Archo^logical S<^iciety. And vet tliei 
they stand — those two ' ancient towns,' Rye and Winchelsea — wit 
the ruins of Camber Castle midway between them, all the more 
interesting in their decay ; the one with its quaint gables, d< 
roofs, and paveil highways, unlike anv other English town v( 
ever saw ; the otlier witli its ivied walls and venerable gatewaj 
and 5tre<:-ts so green with grass, tliat a century ago the hcrl 
* was let some years for 41.' 

It was at Rye and Winchelsea that oar fleet came to anchor 
1350, nhen Edward III. fitught in pcTson against the Snnniai 
and 'having noite to fight with any m«n',* unlered his trumiH*! 
to sound a retreat It was a little after nightfall, Froissart tells 
wlicu the King, Prince of Wales, anil the Duke of Lancaster (Jol 
of Gaunt), who was tln-n too vitung In bear arms, 'but the Kii 
had him on board because he In%-ed him,* tlir Earl uf Kirhmondi 
other barons, disembarked, took hoi-ses in the town, mul mde to tl 
mansion where the Queen was, scarcely two English leagut^ die- 
tanl, and which appears to have been the monastery at Etching 
ham—' who was mightily rejoiced on seeing her lord and cUildrtu 
for she bad suirerr<l that day great aflliction from her doubts 
success i for they had seen from the hills of the coast the whol 



Sussex. 79 

of the battle^ as the weather was fine and clear, and had told the 
Queen, who was very anxious to learn the number of the enemy, 
that the Spaniards had 40 large ships : she was therefore much 
comforted by their safe return,' * 

Although Mr. Uussey prefers the tradition that Caesar effected 
both his debarkations, in the two successive years of his invasions, 
in Kent, as the most likely to be the breviasimus in Britanniam 
trajectus mentioned by him. Professor Airy concludes them to 
have taken place at Pevensey.f If we adopt the Astronomer 
RoyaKs theory, it will increase our interest, as we stand beneath 
the hening-boned masonry of that gigantic ruin, to reflect that 
the two great conquerors of England here first leaped on English 
shore. Be this as it may, there are few places in England where 
the antiquary may spend a pleasanter day than Pevensey, The 
castle of the * Eagle Honour, as it was called, from its long pos- 
session by the great Norman family of De Aquila, rises, a great 
mediseral fortr^s, in the midst of the walls of a Romano-British 
city : for Anderida, the great city of the Andred's Wood, that 
covered much of ancient Sussex, was (there can no longer be 
nuidi doubt) situated here. Courses of Roman tile remain in 
these ancient walls ; upon which the Conqueror must have looked 
before he gathered his forces together and advanced along the 
coast to Hastings. 

And there stands Herstmonceux, or the Wood of the Monceux 
(a Norman family), with its more peaceful associations, which 
never since the Conquest changed owners by purchase till 1708, 
fKie of the earliest brick buildings (after the Roman period) in 
the county, and described by Horace Walpole as having remained 
to his time in its 'native brickhood, without the luxury of 
whitewash.* We sicken at the mournful end of Thomas Lord 
Oacie, its owner in 1524, executed at twenty-four for a heedless 
night fray in Hedlingley Woods. In our own days the parish 
(^ Herstmonceux has become associated with the fame of the 
learned and excellent Archdeacon Hare, who passed there the 
latter years of his life.{ 

But we must not leave the seaboard for the Weald without a 
few words on its great aimual ingathering — the herring season. 
By October 10th all the boats have been manned, and reports 
of inshore * takes' by the summer boats hare quickened the 
labours of the hardy crews to be ready for sea. The man that 
has so gently tended the ladies* bathing-machines all the sum- 

* ' Cfarooicles' (ed. Johnes), vol. i.. p. 269. 

t See 'Tke InTamon of Great Britain by Jaliits Cssar.' By "nioinas Lewin, 
Esq. and cd. 1862. 
t ' Quartcriy Beriew/ vol. xevii. 

mer 



mcr moDtba, and the car-ring«! y«cTitPr, whom tUe most indolent i 
of Lomlun %'isitors liail t)ii)U^)it still more tndnlr^t tlian himsplf, ^| 
have l>ci'n conv(?rt«l suddenlr, aiid as bj magic, into the most ^^ 
courageous and venturesome of those who * go down to the wa in 
ships and occupy their business in ^ent watftrs,' fit to command 
a crew and craft over anr si'as. Nor is t\w business unprofit- 
able. The take last yetiT was an uitusuailv g<x>d one ; the &hare 
of sfjme Inrnts, divistbhr auioi)"; seven or eight boat-owners, i 
amountini^ to no less than TOO/, or 600/. At Christmas they^f 
come into harbour for a short holiday ; with the new year they^^ 
sail westward for the Limnl for the no less perilous pilchard 
fishery, which lasts them till tlie spring is far advanced, when they 
a*rnin return to refit and repair, and become landsmen for a while. 

We must pass more rapidly through the nortli-east of the county, 
which, though pre-eminent in sylvan beauty and pastomi scenery, 
yet possesses, perhaps for that reason, fewer features of historic inte-j 
rest. It is singularly undiversified by towns. East (jrinstead, 
its only representative, must have been a great place in its day.] 
Hence probably it was that, till 1832, it sent two memlx-rs to Par- 
liament, and that the county Lent assizes continued to be held therffl 
till 1799, alternately with Horsham; notwithstanding that the 
rickety idd court-house had tumbled atmut the ears of Judge and 
jury in 1684. Another, and perhaps a Vtter, reason, however, 
for the privilege was that, from tlie Ividness of the ruads sod 
the wild character of the people, it was not safe for the judges to 
venture far bevond the borders. 

Time wijultl fail us lu sjK-nk, as we ought, to tliose who love the ■ 
piduifstjue,- — of the Down and Beacon of lirightling, the gnuid^H 
twin-sister eminence with Crowborough of the forest district; or^^ 
of that once Royal Forest of Ashdown, which kings laboured to 
preserve, but the lawless days of the Ucbellion depopulated ; to 
those who revel in ecclesiastical lore, of the church of Htcliing< 
ham, with its sandstone mellowed into grey, so simple in con- 
struction, so bold and beautiful in its outlines ; to tltose for whom 
baronial grandeur has charms, of the ancestral honours of the 
house of Nevill, and their great place of Eridge, with its not 
trees and its seventy miles of rides and drives; to those wl 
delight in storied pile and mined hall, of the Mditary tijwer i 
Buckliurst (the only remains of the mansion for centuries of the 
Sat kvilles till they got the lordlier Knowlc) ; of the ' Bmnbertie* 
of Domesday, and Brambletyr of Horatv Smith, the home of the 
Coinptons, in the talc of littion as in fait dismantled br Parlia- 
ment troopers, and in two centuries a ruin ; of Bayham, to whose 
setting glories the bouse of Pratt has in tlie»e latter days lenl 
lustre, with its emerald lawns and grey ivied arches reflected in 

the 



toe 
abl e I 

whdU 




Sussex. 



«1 



PPci 



bosom of its oven sweet labc ; of Bodiom, atl round and m&r- 
iial, and still dc5aat, as of yon* in tlie palmv days of the Dalyn- 
gniges ; ur of that Hospital, in whicb the will of tin? good tarl 
of Dorset, unfetton-tl by Mortmain laws, still feeds and hurbour<t 
many a pensioner. 

But clijcf of all in interest, the palace of Ma}'(ield, the home 
in enrliest times of the primates, three of whom lie buried here, 
and. In Inter days, of the munificent Oreaham, the favourite of 
Court and City, die restorer of our finances, the architect of our 
Exchange. This, too, and not Cilastonbury, is the scene where 
strove with the Evtl-one the most earthly of Saints — the restless, 
reckless, and inflexible Dimstan. 

Tlierc is nut much mvth about tlie Rattle of Hastings (for so 
we must be oontent to call it, in spite »tf recent altrmpta t*> revive 
the name of the battle of Sc^nlac). On that undulating upland, 
lUKi in that steep morass, raged on Saturday, October 14:th, 
A.D. lOtiO, from nuie till tlnve, when its tide first turned, as 
fierce a battle, as real a stand up fight between the army of 
and and the great Norman host, ns any which has ever 
_ ided the destinies of countries. llicrc is do important 
battle, the details of which have been so carefully hamlcd 
down to us. How the Conqueror's left foot slipper! on 
landing — the ill omen — and how his right foot- * stackinl in 
the sand'— the good omen of 'seisin;' — ^how the shi|)s were 
pierced, so tliat his host might fight its way to glory without 
rplreat ; and how he merrily extracted an omen for good even 
while putting on his hauberk tlie wrong side foremost; hi>w 
brother CJurth with the tender conscience counselled bnitlier 
Harohl witli the seared conscience to stay away frcmi the fray, 
Inst his bruken mth to William should overtake him; and how, 
u they reconnoitred the vast Norman host, the elder brother'* 
heart had failed him, had not the younger one culled hint 
scoundrel for his meditated flight ; the pmyerful eve In the one 
camp and the ^irnusiiig eve in the ollu-r, ' wiUi w*assails and 
drinkhails ;* the expluils of valiant knight Taillifer between 
the lines; how the Normans shot high in air to blin<l the 
enemy; and the dreadful m^i^ in the * blind ditch Malfo^ise 
shadowed with rcisl and sedg«T ;' imd the Conqueror's hearty 
after-bottle meal, when he was chaired among the dying and the 
deail ; ami tliat exquisitely pathetic: touch of story which tells how 
Edith, the swan-necked, — for the love she bore to Harold, — 
when all otliers failed to ri-cognisc him, was brought to discover his 
mutilated corse among the stain ; and the Conqueror's vow, s<i 
literally redeemed, tn fix the high altar of tlie ' Ahbey of the 
Battaile' where the Siaon (fonfanon fell — all these, and a thou- 

Vol. 112.— ;Vi>. 223. a sand 



82 



Lives of the ArcUnJtops of CarUerhury. 



und othcT minute circumstances of the memorable day, ittand out 
in u clear relief at this distaiic-e of time as the last charge of 
Waterloo, or tlic closing scchp at Trafalgnr. 

Sussex has Utile occasion to feel humbled \yy having been 
scene- of this well -contested field. Whatever the ijiluibitantB 
the British isles hare since been able to eHect for their own 
greatccM and for the happiiKss of the human race, is attributable 
in no small degree to ^thc issue of that fight. Thenrefonh the 
Saxon was guided and elevated by the high spirit and far-Teachii 
enterprise of the Xorman, and the elements of the national 
racter were complete. 






Abt. 111. — Licet of t/te Archtiiakops of Canterhuru. By Walt 
Farquhar Htxtk, D.D., Dean of Chichestvr. Vols. I. and 
London, 18U1-2. 

IN re\-iewing a book by the Dean of Cliichostcr, wc do 
feci nurselvcs bound by tlmt delicacy which usually forbi 
any reference to the personal history of living authors. Fi 
Dr. Hook has long been known to the public, not on\y by hU 
literar)' productions, but far more by the great and important 
practical work which he has i^erformed, and by the conspicuous 
part which he has tal^cn in the morcments and in the contro- 
versies of our age. We are not left to speculate whether the 
writer of the volumes which Iwnr his name on the title page be W^M 
young man, or one somewhat advanced in years ; whether a mai^H 
whose life has always been that of a secludetl student, or oofr 
whose time has been largely occupied by the active duties of hit 
calling; ur to what particular section of theological opinion the 
new hingmjihrr of the Kiiglish primates is to lie referretl. If w« 
know anything of the history of our church for the last quar 
of a century, wc already know all tlie&c; things as tu Dr. Hook; 
and there is no reason why wc should aSect to be ignorant 
them, any more than if we were dealing with some nmint 
statesman or warrior. Indtvtl tlie Dean himsell' refers to his owD^ 
history in such a manner as tu set us at our ease in this respect. 
After mentioning * the artistic skill with which Hnme hat 
clustered the farts around a central per&onage, and portrayed th e i 
principles of the age in counexiun with the character of th^H 
•ovcrcign,' he tells us that, — ^B 

* At an oorly period of lifo the idea mggostcd itself to tfao author of 
the present work that a iimilar interest might attach to the hlt- 
tory of the English Church, if, jihtcing the primate in the centre, «« 
woro to counoct mth his biography uo eochxiAStical ovouts of Mb 

age 




d 



timtifi 



of Canterbury. 



and thus oasociite fJKts which «ro ovorlooked in their inni^nlti- 
eont isuktion, anil oustonifi which, ahstractedly oonndorocU nm v^nod 
only \>j the aitli([uury. A vocotioD to pastoral dot/ in tho mauti&o- 
turiiig dih'tricte <luauuid(^ and exhiuiMtcd his energies for fivo-ftnd- 
thirtj ytmni ; but hu auught his lucniutiun in tlio ntbid^ of occleHia8- 
dcnl history, uid he resunciB, ia hie old age, a task which bo ouwiUinglj 
rolinq^uialiud.* — (i. 2.) 

Thii bonk, therefore, is in its nri^n a pnraDel to the Li>'es of 
Jodfpea, by Lord Camjibpll aiid Mr. Fuss — rach tho work of a man 
whii, iu witbdrawliifr from the loiig'-ftiinilljir bustif <if pr<)f(>ssionaJ 
Iftbour, Mjught and found in litcratui-e that i)CcU)tati()n whirh was 
oeceasary for a vig;oroiis and acdve mind. In (ike roiinner. 
Dr. Httuk, un being' tnuisferred fnun the chief pastoral superin- 
tcmlcncc of a vast tnanufarturiii^ town to preside over the 
cathedral of a ([luet little uld-fasluoned city, lias employetl his 
well-earned and welcome leisure on the execution uf a plan 
wluch he had formed in the years of bis youth ; and the result 
is sncb as might have been antiripnted. The Imok bears 
throughout the stamp of the author's personality, We should not 
have looked in Dr, Hook's pages for evidence of that entire 
devotion to the subject in hand, of that depth and originnlitv of 
research, of that minute and thoron<;h knowledfre, which might 
liave been fairly expected from a writer of a diflerent class ; noi 
am we pretend to have found these merits in any very hiph 
d^^rac, although it is certain that the nutlior has donr bis work 
diligently unci consrirntinusly. In many plares it is rvidt-nt that 
his information rpg-anlln^ varicnis iiiatterx treated »n tin* vulumrs 
before a« has been lately acquired ; and not unfrequently thin^ 
ant brtmpht forward as if they wen? new, which will be less 
to to the ]»rcscnit generation »>f students ^vm tliey were ti> the 
stwlmts* of Dean Hook's rarlier days. But on tbi; other hatKl, 
if his knowleilge of ilt-tajls be recent, it is evident thai the main 
story has lou^ been familiar to liis mind, that his view of it 
has \(mg, been settled, and that he thus has something to start with 
which givcshimacumraand over the details as they ore discovered, 
with a power of appreciating and arranging them ; and if things 
am now generally studie<L by the younger clergy which were nut 
studied forty years ago, there were among the ordinnry clerical 
studies o( that day subjects and books which are now neglected, 
but which \el are of great value and importance. Nor has Dean 
Hook Awgotten what he learnt in his early years, but the knowlotlge 
then acquired is often I^roughl with good effect to hear on his iww 
subject. Throughout wl- see a man who has known much of men 
and of life; the pure Anglican divine, who at every stqi' has Ijeen 
uxusiomed to make good his cause against Romiuiisui on i\w 

G 2 unK 



one hand and against Puritajiism on the other. Above all, 
is the great advantage of strong natural good sense, conirolliiig 
am) guiding his judgment and his pen — a speciallr English 
qaality, which in Dean Hook has been improved and ripened by 
long and large experience. If, indeed, there be any charac- 
teristic u'hich is jiarticularly noticeable in him, it is his ulter 
unlikoness to those with whom he was at one time popularlv 
classed, but on vcr^' superficial grounds — the party which had 
for its organ tlie 'Tracts for the Times;' — it is his distrust of 
idealisms, his leaning to the real, the possible, and tlie practicable, 
his remembrance that men are neither angels nor inacbines, his 
inclination to abate from the ri£;our of theories and to secure 
such good as is attainable. He is content to take a plain riew 
of things, to forego nil the glory tliat nii^lit be gaineil by mystery^ 
and subtlety, and paradux, by unintelligible opinions and stormy 
or hazy language. Hut, .strongly manifest as is his practical 
turn of mind, be is whuUv free h-om that vulgarity which refuses 
to make allowance for merit of other kinds than his own. If, lor 
example, he considers that Ansetm failed as a primate of 
Kngland, he is desirous tn du him justice as a theologinn, a 
phihisopher, and a siint, and regrets that, from the sphere which 
Ansclm in these characters adorned, he altowe<l himself to be 
called away to duties for which he was leas Btted. 

In plan the book resembles some others which have appeared 
since the idea of it was first entertained by Dr. Hook — such as 
Lord Campbell's * Livesof die ChauceUors, and MissStrickland's 
* Live* of the Queens of England,' — a work which we see that 
the authoress has lately turned into a complete series of English 
historv, by the ingenious expedient of publishing as a supplement 
the * Lives of Rnchelor Kings.' It <liflers from a c<ilIectionof live* 
of men eminent in any particular line — such as statesmen, divines, 
admirals, generals, or lawyers — in this respect, that it groups the 
story of ever)' age around one official personage— one chosen, not 
for his personal superiority to others, but because he Iwlongs to 
a succession of those who have (illed (whether well, or ill, 
or moderntely) some particular place. Tiie first nf Uiese methiKls 
would bo purely bit igrapl ileal ; tlie other h;is more affinity witli 
history: and acconlingly. Dean Hook tells us that 'the work 
now presented to die reader is designed to be a Histoiy of the 
Church of England ' (i. 2). We neeil not say, however, tliat the 
historv wuutd nut have taken this form if Uteauthitr had intended 
it to be a btlilly <ligntfied com(>osilion. On the coutraiy, he 
bolfls himself at liberty to tell his story in a free and unfettered 
style — to enliven it with such illustrations, anecdotes, and digres- 
sion* as occur to bini. He neither alTccts the pomp of Gibbon 

nor 



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XiMi of the Archbishops of Canterl/un/. 



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nor tlip brilliancy of Macaulay. Sometimes it may be thougbtj 
that he condcscctiils rathm- morp titan need he to very youn{ 
readers; sometimes we may Iw remimled of his hig^h fame as a 
preacher by a tone which savours somewhat too strongly of tlie 
pulpit; sometimes, we may think that he is a little too familiarj 
and gossipping. But if we notice these trjflinjf matters, it ii] 
only in order to say tlmt they do not at ail really detract froni| 
the pleasant, readable, and instru<rtive cliaracter of the volumes. 

Dr. Hook's tone is, as we have already said (and as, indeed, 
it hantly necessary to say) entirely that of an Anglican church- 
man. Yet this does not exclude liberality of opinion ; for there ig 
throughout tlmt true liberality which consists, not in treating^j 
everything with equal coldness, or in suppressing the writer's] 
own convictions, but in allowing for the difierent position andj 
principles of other men. However much he may dislike the 
papal usurpations, he docs not think it necessary to treat every 
pope, or every adherent of the papacy, as a noxious creature, to 
he hooted .it and hunted down. He ivrites as liecomes a memlwr 
of a church which of .ill ('hristian communions mav Ijc styled 
the most truly historical, inasmuch as its reformation was not 
basetl on any new ideal of Christianity, but on a return, in so for] 
as llie cliange of circumstances allowed, to the ascertained 
ddctrrnrs of primitive times ; a church which neither disdains 
history like some religtous iHidies, nor falsifies it like (he Church 
of Rome. 

Perhaps it may be partly to Dr. Hook's practical tuni of 
mini), perhaps partly to habits formed in nmtrovt-rsy, that we 
oug:ht to asrrilie that foiulness for drawing parallels between 
ancient things and things of our own day which will strike every 
reader of these volumes. Sometimes this appears simply in the 
sliapc of illustration: as when we arc told that King Offa's, 
donation, on which the exaction uf Peter-]H-ncc was grounded, 
was rwit orij^iiially a national tribute to the Papal see, but that 
the kii^ intended to 'become an annual subscriber towards the 
fund raised to pay the ex{}ens(!3 of Divine service at Rome, and 
for the support of indigent pilgrims who might visit the cit)** 
(i. 2.'i3) ; or where the mingle<l splendour and discomfort of an 
Anglo-Saxon court are illustrated by a rompnriwm with an (iffu^crV 
hut at Aldershot, where 'sjuttering candlts ' thn>w their lifiht on 
*B splendid uniform/ and 'a table with splendid sjiecimens of 
bijoiatrie and expciuive works of art ' (i. 3l'J) ; or the roiniwirisoii 
of mediaeval palmers to modem writers of leailing articles (ii. ' 
42) ; or the curious passage in which the eRt-rt produced by Peter ' 
the Hermit on his age is illustrated bv the cracking of the great 
Westminster bell (ii. 41). Sometimes the parallel is used in 

order 



86 Lives of the Archbitliaps of Canterbury. 

order to pay a compliment, as wlierp, liy Archbisltop Baldwin's 
en»editi<m to nrvach the Crusade in VV'ales, accompnnifd by the 
justiciar KiuiulT de Glonvillc, ' wc arr rcmindnl of tlic manoer 
in wbich the cnnse of the African Mission was supported on a 
late occasion by the coHSperatiun of one of our most pifted jho* 
lates, in conjunction with the most eloquent of uur lawyers and 
statesmen' (iL 500). In one place, mmplimciit of tliia kinl 
Is combinril with n pmplifcy whirli the diversities of lasU- in 
h^'mnulugy will hanlly alli>w to Ik* fulfilled. After luiviog 
told us that Osmund, Bishop of Salisbiu*}', compiled the Samm 
Offices, which ' became the model ritual of tJie Church of 
Euglaiul,' nnd that tht^ Fishop of Sullsbmy became precentor of 
the dpIsciiiKd Collegt', Dean Hook goes on to say : — 

* Tbu title is still retained bj tho indofaUgablo, loomod, and pions 
pvelate nho occnpicH the soo of Salisbury at tho present time ; who 
Lm indeed pruTwl himaelf to be tho worthy Kuccew^jr of Biithtqt 
Oanmnd, by helping to pn^paro, and by giving his Bouction to, a hymu^ 
book for his dioccso, which is likely aoou to beconw the uao (^ tbo 
whole province.' — (ii. 165.) 

But more commonly the parallels between past and pment 
times arc made to convey a caution against tliinking ourselves 
wiser or lK?ttcr than our forefathers. Tlius, in speaking of 
the |K>pu1ar religious i>arty throughout the Mirldio Ages, Dean 
Hook usuidly stylis it 'the religious world,* by way of a 
hint to the frcnuentcrs of Exeter Hall that, if they bad lived 
in those days, their zeaal would probably have been shown Dot 
in protesting against the Church of Home, but in cnthusiasti- 
eally emliracing and forwarding its superstitions. So we are 
t<ild tliat the generation which at first scoutc<l George Stephen- 
son's projcnrts is not cntltleil to despise tho contemporaries of 
Roger Bacon for thinking him a magician (i. 7). If the «>venth 
century quarrcUcd about the Roman and the Scottish tonsures, 
we are admonished by n reference to the late scenes in St GeorgeV 
in-tlie-Kast, that even the ninrtei^nlb century has something to 
learn as to the right way of estimating the externals of religion 
(i. 13). If Dunstan was (as Southey supposed) a ventrilo(|uiat, 
and used his ventrilocjulsm for the interest of his religious party, 
he was no worse than * manv a modem man of genius, who with 
the pen of a ready writer, and with strong jiarty feelings, c«im- 
muiiicates to the public, under a iKn^udonyme, garbled stHleuieuls, 
of which he would lie unwilling to acknowle<Ige himself the 
author' (i. 3h8). If tricks were played with relics in the middle 
ages, do not scrretaries and auditors of modem instituti<ms *caok 
the accounts * ? If there were sham miracles In those da\*s, are oar 
modem missionary societies very parttcolar as to the truth of 

stories 



I 



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Z-i'ccT t^the Arthbifhcps of CarUerifury. 



87 



itnrirs which *Bpi>eftl to the sentiment of piety and the enthuaiasm 
of lienpvolnncc' ? (ii. 2$2),* If bribery and corruption were prac- 
liaetl in the Pnpal Court, have wc ncrcr heard that ' tlurioK the 
mania of railroad !{i>eculatioii, the votes of momWrs of cithtT 
House of Parliament might l>e inflaenced by u juiUt-ious di^lri' 
bucioD of shares?' (li. 333). If the Hritish Christians n-e^e 
disinclined to attempt the conv'er:»ion of the Saxon invaders, ore 
nol 'juimc of our conteinporarirs less to be justified, who refuse 
to support a mission to Central Africa simplv on the ^'ound 
that it is not supported hy some I'arourite missionary societ)> ? ' 
(L 12). Even the shai-c which raedixvnt hisliope took in war 
most not be too rashly condemned as scandalous; for *a bishop 
in those days did not consider a command in the field of Ijottle 
more inctimjintihlp with Ins sarred uHicc than we should regard 
a seat in Parliameut at the presi^nt time' (i. 307). Iiidcml, 
the fic;httng of ecclesiastics in the middle ages majF pU-ad 
somclhiuf; like the anthorit}' of Dr. I'arr ; for ' within our 
own memor}>', tlie pftleuiic in thp field of polities fought with his 
pen to recouimeiid himself to a imrty, oiul tu establish a claim 
ujKiu its putrouai^e.t li» the eleventh century the same fc-elings 
animate*! the military polemic, with the imly dilli^rence that hard 
blows were supposed to be more efficacious in enforcing an 
arjBfumenl than l^rd words' (ii. ilZ). Nay, even persons now 
alire, and of liigher spiritual pretensions than Dr. Parr, are nut 
Rithout tlieir likeness lo those combative old bishops: — 

'Ijet OS not bo Uh> Hovon: upon tho prelates thns ongngud in war- 
fikr«. 'What they did was douo witli tho fnll consent of the reli^oos 
Toxld, «8 it t h an existed, and amidst tlje applause uf many who ao- 
ooontod thcmselvcfi truly pious. It it) the ammna rather than the 
action winch is to bo regarded. In the nineteenth century we do nut 
indood Sbo prulatcH vnouliug the Inttlo-nxo anil lieunug in pieces tho 
csofporcn] members of pagans or of heretics ; ncverthok«a dixttnictioii ia 
nmnully hurled at inooiDorable ChristiaD B(.>nls by tho Bieliop of 
Bome ; and nrhon we poBs from the TiciniQr of the Colisenm to that 
e£fiea in the f^tnuid of Itondon, whom in the ihiyft nf nor childhood wo 
flK9od wild bcastn ^-itb terror, wo sbill hear tho roar not of beasts hot 
ci men— fiorco as the Bphflriim* of old ;^gAthered &om all qnarten, 
from church, lalwmarlo, and chapid, frota ihu turdly jioLlcu and frfftu 
ttie eobblci's stall, from north to south, from east to west; fiwm 
Durham to QL>ucoHter, and from Noi-wich to Winchester ; and we find 
that llm oumt as it is uttered lu Loutlnu diilers from Ihu eurso us it is 
ftiliBinnted in Bouio ouly in form and nut in spirit. .... 

*fio lontf as Papist cursed Protestant aud Protestant curaos Papist 

* Ws liav« rco«nllv called atl«nrtoa to the msrT«lloai storks related by l[i« 
BcT. Mr. Kennedy, }<ee 'Quanedj' Iteview.' vol. cxi. p. 174. 
t A mwe refers lo FstKs preflice to BdleiMlaiua. 

WC 



8S ZtM« of tlie Archhiahajia of Canierbtuy, 

UTut not judge sevdrely of those whoeo fanatictsm in tho twelfth 

eootury curriotl Cham from the ntrauilH of Dritam or from the hills of 
Hume to tight vilmi they huliuveil to be the Lord's hattle ou tho phiius 
of Palestino/— (ii. 669-570.) | 

Here and thrrc, indeed, the application of these paralleb is a 
little equivocal. We are, for instnm-e, Ipft In some doubt whether, 
in one of the sentences alrradv qiiutiHl, mir author wouhl iibsnlutelv 
justiiy the fighting bishops (which thcflr own L\;ntemporarics did 
not, except in tlic ra«: of crusades), or whether he would turn our 
modem bishops out of the House <»f Lonls. So, when he tells ns 
that 'Hihiebrand's idea was that whlcli has lx*en pri>|>uunded in 
our own da^s by one of the most consistent and philantlmipic of 
our statesiiieii — the avoidance of war and the maintenance of order 
by the establishment of a unirersol referee. Thus do extremes 
meet' (ii.30) — we are not quite sure whether the intention is to 
applaud or to condemn the old liientrch and the Maneliestrr states- 
man together. And the like may be said of a passage where ihe 
appropriation of ecclesiastical income to reward political service 
in the middle ages is paralleled with the Ecclesiastical Commis- 
sion, in which, ' instead of going to the support of prebendaries 
and canons, or of the parochial clergy, a certain jwrtioii of the 
Church property is employed to remunerate the Commissioners. 
The chief Commissioner receives the income of two prebends 
and a living ; the second, of two prebends ;' while ' their secretary 
has the income of five livings, — his work being considered equal 
to that of five clergymen ' (ii. 364).* 

A good deal of this sort of writing, indeed, npjiears to be not 
more than half serious : rather an indulgence of the author's 
humour than intended cither to teach us or to provoke as. For 
OUT own part, we arc quite willing to let the Dean hare his good* 
naturefl ning at us and at our neighbours ; and whereas it might 
be thought Uiat these jmssagrs can hare no interest but for the 
present generatiim, we rather believe tliat to any one who may 
look into the book a century or two hence, they will appear the 
most curious passages in it. They will give him some lights 
which he might not easily find elsewhere, but some of them will 
probably puzzle him not a little. 

The Lives of the Archbishups arc to be dividend into five 
books, each of which, it is to \yc presumed, will fill a volume, 
as is the case with those alreiidy published. The books arc 
respectively to contain — ' 1. The Anglo-Saxon period; II. The 
Anglo-Norman pcriiKl ; 111, TTie Reactionary jjeriod ; IV. The 
Keformatinn ; V. The Modem History ' (ii. ^0). Of ihcsti, the 

* We ur« obliged to uk, what ii ihe rsltie of a prebend, snd vhstDfa ImngP 

first 



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Lives of the Archbishops of Canterburi/. 



89 



first and second, extending to the death of Archbishop Stephen 
tangton, are now before us. 

To begiu with the Anfflo-Sason period is a necessitv which 
mast somewhat hinder the attractiveness of the first jwrtiun. 
VV*e ,all know that Milttin is cnntinuall}' rebuked in dicso days 
for havinj; likmofl AnghnSaion history to 'the wars of kiles or 
crovrtf flocking and fijfhting in the air;' yet wo ima^jine that, 
nftCT all, ihe feeling of readers in gencTal is rather with Milton 
than with those who take it on thcinselvc* to correct him. To 
say (hat the history of I'lngland during* those ages ouyht to be 
interesting — that if it is not found so the fault is in the rrailer — 
id to introduce considerations which are really beside the ques- 
tion. Kor is it of any use to tell us that, if we would but go . 
deep enough into tlie study of the subject, we shouUl find it 
interesting; for oniitholuglsts might prolmbly say the same of 
those airy feuds from whiclt Milton draws liis coiitemptuoua 
timile. The question of interett is reallv to be decided, not by 
pcrtOQS who have made Anglo-Saxon history the subject of 
conscientious antiquarian study, or by those (for wc suspect that 
there are such) who have got up n smattering of it for tlie sake 
of displaVi but by ordinary readers, who judge by a comparison 
of that period with later times of English history, or with the 
history of other countries. A few points there are which are 
rcmembere<l by every reader of our commonest school -lx>o]cs ; 
but the great mass of the story, extending as it does over more 
tlian six hiinilred years, is utterly forgotten. In the long line of 
the archbishops, how few have any place in the memory even of 
prrsons whose acquaintance with such matters is above the 
average! Augustine is, no doubt, remembered, and something of 
his story — ^tlie scene between Po|)e Gregory and the English Imys 
in the slave-market, the couvcrsinii of Ethelliert, antl the quarrel 
l»etwren tltL- Italian missioiiaritn and the bishops of the older 
Dritish church." Theodore may possibly be known as the monk 
of Tarsus under whom the whole English Church was consoli- 
finted, and the knowIe<]gi> of his native Gnrek is said iti have 
bccume as eomniun in tliis country as that of Latin. Dunstan is, 

* Wr veoture to <^uet(ioQ the correclu««s of a note r«)atiiie to Augutttn«. whom 

Grrgi<i7 llt« Great, tn writing to U)« oiisatousms Utuud for Uritaiu, luul itylcd 

'* prv^ftMittui «i.-*ler.' 'In ilic^ first (Hlitinii,' &■)» DiAig Hook, 'I lUwd Ujv word 

t>fw*>tt, trai tbcrv sppcor* to t>c somctlung of an anarhronism id thU. Proant bod 

Xutl as Jet a ttKlmicat raeauiag, aud it has now oo other ' (,i. 5t>. In the MCOod 

lOH, iliervfofL-, lite word& are trwidated 'yoor leader.' J'!t/t»tt (pnepoi'Uus}, 

ever, K-id, in ilngorj't time, 'a techuical roeauiiig,* iitasmiich as it «iu the 

IB girrai ill tha Bvovdictinv rule (c. 63) lo the Kcuod yvivoa (or prin--] in a 

tsiiirkLUtcrjr ; uiid Augusdae seems tv liaTu held tliix ofllcv tu tbe inoiia»tei'V on 

Ihc l'J<Rlian lltll, from which the English mUsioii wu M-ni furtJi. S«« the Bene- 

tiut life of Gregory, iu Micoe, * Patrotogia Lallna,' licrv. 3GG. 



imleei), as familiar ■ name as Bccket, or Cranmer, ar Laud ; 
OJo may pt'rliaps be- rcmpmlMTpiI, altbougli mare faintly, on 
account of liIs coimexion witli Duustau. Aelfric is K>metimes 
mcntionod, not for an^-thing that he is known to bare done, but] 
becauw he may perhaps have been the same Aelfric from whosp 
homilies some pemiges have been citractcti aa evidence of the 
An];Ii>-kSiix(in belief on tin? Kut-liaristic doctrine* 'I'Un n;ime of 
AIpl»xi? is prp»?rvi!«l by wuhl* rhurcbes which are dcdicatcrd U> 
it, and by the cinrunisUaces of his murder by the Danes. And 
Stigand i$ remembered as the last of Anglo-Sax.oDs who was de- 
poscdiu order that the Italiaji hood of a Norman abbey might take 
his place. But these are a1>out nil that can lie said to retain any 
hold whatever on the miads of ordinary rentiers; and we ques- 
tion whedier even Dean Hook himself could now pass a Tcsy 
brilliant examination in the Uvcs of the Brihtwalds and the 
Nothclms, the Plc^munds and the Eadsijfcs, whose history he 
has investigated^ written, ajid in all probability forgotten. The 
Doan has, however, known bow to enliven the duller portioa 
of his stnry by the intrtKlnrtion of amusing matter here and 
tbeine. Thus in the Life of Tatwine (a.d. 731-735) we find 
a cwriniis account of the manner of education and of the state of 
knowh-ilge in that nrchbishop's timc! (i. l%-20ti), and other 
such digressions occur thmughoat. 

On a point as to which the reader of Church history finds 
himself obliged to form some opinion, — the continual recurrence 
of miracles, — I>oanHook has some very sensible remarks (i. 35-7), 
of wliich we slmll cjuote a part:— 

* It is only in modem tinios tliat wo have loanied to diKtingiiifth bo- 
tween credulity and fiuth, and to andorstaad that, as the object to be 
nach«d in all oor investigatioiu is truth, twe onqoirei may foil inio 

* SeQ t. 434-S. Dean Hook t«Us us tibewbera Uiut Joba Scoiiu Erigcua ' tmtt 
•with fV«iedom awl Icamirg upuu tbe ductriue of prvdestuisUou, but tbc vcsk 
wliich made ihu gresu-st impreuiian npon thv public mind w hU nrradsa "[)■ 

^^^ Eucharikita,"' in (xppoficion lo ihr oplnioiu of PKSchnsimllaillwTt; aril, ««nmfalg 

^^K the idcDtitjT of Scotiu wiUi that Jobn vho wan one of the sreal jlllVcd's lilenu; 

^^H HUKluatx, he is 'iudiaed ui lliiiik ifaai to fain intliiGiice mc ortbodoxj of lu 

^^^1 Bsf^uh divines on ihii Mibjwct tmy he. In some mrtuiiirv, tneeS' (i. SS3-:\). To 

^^H IB It Kems el«ar that Alfrthl't Jcbin was a dillercnt person from ScotU: and it it 

^^^r aow gtaenUj Rappasod that Scotns did net vrito & special tratiBe ou the Eucharist^ 

^V but that bis views on it were set forth in bi<i Comm^^ntary anSt. Jobn (of which tlie 

H kxtftnt portioB stop* short vl lh<i cri(ica) port wf tbc sUth chapter.), and, pvrbus, 

■ tl»ii ill « >hoi-| leiUf to Charles tbir Raid, whicb uo longi-r uxista. And, while nit 

^^ views, in m IVr as tbi-y rjtn hr gsihervd finm his rtmaining writinf^, wttt certaialj 



1 



opposed to those of PaM-hnsiDs, they *e«m also to bare difcred considenhlj 
tks doetriuv of Aelfric ^uul from ihnt iit' ih« Kiiglisb refbnnstiaB. (See PliMi, 
Mlgoe's * Patrnlofna,* cxxit., I'rai^f., p. xxi. ; Chmtlieb, ' JoluuiB Sratns Erigeos*' 
Gotha, ISiiO, pp' '*>. '^•a.') Bi-rennr aiwl hit opponents, lu the elerenib ceotvy, 
wrangtjr attribated tbo tnatuc of Katnunn, * l>e Corpore et Ssnpilo* Uonial,* 
Sootu ; sod heoee tuu uisca tUDch eoaftinoa in later timea 







Lives of tim Archbiskopt of Cattterl/urtf. 



9t 




•B great error by beliering ti>o much as another li^ boltoring too liUlo. 
Bat boforu thiB (trincipk- waa roeogoiaed, and when tho only fear men 
had w«B leet thfjr ahoold not holioTO cnongli, tliey onnoui-mged them* 
flelvos in credohty ; aiul irhciYiaii my fOioiUd think it siiif^ to givo 
ondil to tho report of a miraclo witliout carufiilly cjcamiuiug thu evi- 
denoo, our conviction being that credulity wcakeoa tho oanae of Chria- 
tianity, tho anciontaworo, on tho cantrary, too ranch iiieliucd to regard 
an invwtigation of eTidonco, not as a legitimate cxurciso of tho roaaon 
with vhich o\tx Creator hiw L-ndowcd as, bat as an indication of an 
mfidal tamper or a want of fiuth.' — (i. 38.) 

£)arlj in the work wo have iDtimatlons of a theory which 
aotneivhat tin^Y^ the whole — as to the indepondenre of the Enf^lixb 
Church in Anglo-Saxon times. On this account Dean Houk is 
disposed to dwell rather stmnglv on the shortcominf^ of the 
Italian missionaries^ whose proceedings after their first establish- 
ment in this Ulaiid he rcgnrds as wanting in boldness and entei^ 
(i, 113-120); and, from remarking' on these drfcets, he 
on to ahaw how the mission of Birinus to Wesaex, which 
■anctioDed by Rome but unconnectr<I with Canterhnrr, 
the way for the union of the whole English Church. This 

a matter to which it is well thnt attention should I»e drawn, 
as it has t(M) rommonly hcen overlimked. . 

We cannot hnt think tliat, in his wish to disconnert the 
Anglo-Saxuu Church from Rome, Dean Hook has done'somo 
injustice to the great missionary Boniface, whom lie represents 
as *miserahlT deficient in judgment, tliough excelling in zeal ' 
(i, 237). Surety thi-re was nulhing incoosistent (as the Dean 
appcrum to supjM^iii-) iu Roniface'a falling back on the Kngliah 
Church for assistance in his labonrs, although he had received 
hia commission from the Bishop of Rome. For he saw that 
Englishmen were the men lx*st fitted for missionary work 
among the kindred people of Germany ; and, on the other hand, 
lie did itot see that antagonism which Dr. Hook imagines 
between the English and the Roman Churches of that day. To 
Sociiiace Rome was venerable, among other reasons, because 
from it the second conversion of England had proceeded ; and, 
although after having entered on his missionary career he never 
revisited his native land, his communication with it was con- 
stant, his interest in the English Church was unabated. He 
found that his connexion with Rome gave him advantages in 
dealing ivith the princes and the people of France and Ger- 
many which were not tn W liad by nny ntlier means ; the more 
he saw of the disorderly Irish missitmaties who rivalled and 
thwarted him in his exertions, the more did he naturally feel 
liimself inclined to draw close the bands by which he imnself 

waal 



92 



Lives qftlie Archbishoja of Cajiterbitry. 



was connected with Rome ; and, if we may take the success of bis 
mission as a test, his policy appears to he amply justified as the 
best which could have been adoptM in the circumstances with 
which he had to deal. 

On the whole, it seems to us that the relations of the Anglo- 
Saxon Church with that ol' Rome are less correctly stateil by Dean 
Ilook than by another late writer, Pmfessor Pearson, of Klnp^'s 
College, LoniJon, whose volume t>n ' The E.-irIy and Middle 
Ages of England ' ii full of information and written with much 
ability, although somewhat disfifrured by that tone of ilnshiny 
doo^matisra which seems to bo nov/ Tf^gnrded as necessary for a 
Professor of M<n]frn History :* — 

' If,' writes Mr. Pearson, ' in little mottcrs of detail Gregory's plan 
w«8 not Cfurieil out, there can yet bo httio doubt that the Aiigla- 
Sftxon Church looked up to Home ok itti original anil as it« vUinmto 
court of appeal. In troublesome times communication might bo soe- 
pendud ; the whole connection vran pcrhapit rcgiitded an Bottled by 
custom, which no one cared to disput^j, ntther tbo-n an a mnticr of nbeliBCt 
right. In fact it would bo easier to proyo tho devotion of tho Suums 
to Romo tliuD thoir dt^pundonco upon it, tliougli tliu latter no donbi 
was real. There is ono inKtanco on record where tho primate adhered 
to the fortunes of a fallpu pope, and did not attempt to conciliate hiB 
more fortuuata rival. But the pilgriroage of Anglo-Saxon kings and 
a nomeloHS nmnbor of the ]ieople to Rome, the dues Helf-imposed to 
support a hospice thcro, the fierce zeal of Boniface for tho papal 
clftinii!, aro all proofs of a filial sentiment to the august mother of 
their fid (h.'t 

Wc brlieve, indeed, that in this period Rome cicrciscd over 
the Knglish clergy tlic influence of advanced religious fashion. 
Iliat many hung behind, and refused to follow its * develop- 
ments* in doctrine and in practice, is to be explained by the 
foct that the great mass of the clergy is generally distrustful of 

* Nor U Mr, Pearson slvsj* 10 be rc1i«d on for (MnrcclncSG of ststemcni. At 
p. 3fi», for vxamiiie, be dispUys a power of crowding bluinlen into s uanw 
comji^iss, which tni^t be MiTial by Mr. Thanibury himstif. Henry II., it is uid, 
nficr hit rcconcUiatlon with ihe Pop*', ' wa» now uurtppiWiMl TOWt.'r ftf the RtisUsh 
Church, and he g»vc away i(» Whojiric* to Hcckel s nworn ciicmii-v, Kidrl. John 
of Oxford, aud liichard uf IlcheEtor.or to fi>n.-ignt.-rE| finch as William l^ngcbamps 
litut Richard de TocIifTu.' Mr. Pcnmon adds in a note, * Longcliamps wa3 a natiTe 
of Bcuuvaif, and dc ToclilTe archhisliop of Poitiers. Similoil j, ihe priotacy wai 
offctvd to the Lombaid VucarinK.' On ihh it may be nniurkcd that il.i llicliard 
Tocliffe (.who so«ini to be indebted to Profc«»r Pcarvoa for the prefia Jet was 
tb« name wiih lUchard of IWb^ittr ; (S.t he wa« not a foreigner, but a oatine of 
the diocL-sr of Bath — probably of the town from which his local oaiue waa takea ; 
is.) be waa aot archbishop, but arrhdeacno, of Poiders; (4) nor was Poittnn 
ever an srcbtepiscopal «cc ; (S.j Longcltamps was not appomtetl by llvnry, bnl I7 
Richard I. ; (6. j the oiimacy was not offvred to V'acanus, biit to Bogcr, abbot of 
Bee, whom Scldyu nii'l "ftuTs have (.•onfoundi'd with him. 



t 'The Karly aud Uiddle Ages of England,' LotidoD, 1661, p. 8G, 




novelties, 



Lives (^the Arehbisftops of CaiUerbuty. 



93 



DOvoltiFs, ratber than b}r supposing that they aetetl on auy settled 
and consciouslv entertained principle of national or primitive 
Christianity. Those who had intercourse with the C<pntinent 
were regarded as the party of process and of suficrior enlighten- 
ment ; and the decay of the English Church under tlie calamities 
iiiBicteil hy tlie Danish invasions jjave greater and greater advan- 
tAges to tliis party. If ICngland was less Roman than Fiance, 
the reason seems tu have been simply that it was less civilised 
and more remote. 

Bat it is time that we shonhl pnss on to Dean Hook's second 
volame, which in the inti^rest of its snbjrct far exceeds the finX, 
Aldumgh the second volume is considerably tlie larger, the 
period embraced in it is much shorter than in the other — bring 
little more than a ccntur}' and a half, instead of nearly five 
centuries. Hence there is room for greater fulness of narrative^ 
wbile the facts arc better known and more interesting; and 
among the archbishops of this time, beginning with l^ufiaiic, 
the contemporary of Gregory VII., and ending with Stephen 
Langton, the coniemporaiy of Innocent III., are some of the 
most famous names tliat are to be found in the M-holc of the long 
seiies from Augustine tn his successor in our own day. 

The introductory chapter of this volume desen'es to be men- 
tlocted, as gi\'ing~ a clear and sensible view of some of the chief 

Stints which require notice in the circumstances of the time. 
ne great cause of the collisions between the Crown and the 
Church was that, in Dean H«)ok's significant phrase, »lhi^ Norman 
kings were none of tliem gentlemen, niey were not gentlemen, 
because from their earliest years the vindictive and other iKLSsions 
were encouraged and indulged ' (p. 8). And the part which the 
Cbnrch playwi in opposition to these princes — the strength which 
it found in its c*)nte8ts witli them — are well explained in tlie 
following wnnis: — 

' Power was required to restrain tho king, and this power was sought 
1)7 the Chnrch. The ScripttircB of the Old TestAmcnt were Htudicd 
with a Kest cqnal to that uf the Fnritauti of a Knhticqituut period, and 
the idea of a tboocnicy was prevalent and popular. The people 
groaned beneath tlio fcTnum^ of the barons ; they too odcn misHed a 
protector in tlio Rorcreign ; thoy fuuud a friend in tho priest, who 
very frcqucDtly rose trnm their own ranks to the high position lio 
occnpied in society. IViostu and bishops wcro foremost among the 
demagogues of the day ; and in the contentioDs which we shaU bavo 
to reconnt hotweon thn primates and the kings of Kngland we shall 
find the people invariiihly on the aide of the ('hurch. Evi-ry fhuirh 
morumient was a popular movement. The Church formed the rcvo- 
Intinnarj' party ; and aiiinng the pfKtple, degrndtd, and tu a. groat 
extent cnHiav«d, the prevalent foclmg was that nny rovolntion wotdd 




he bottcT than tho usBtiiig state of things. The kiog become more 
eiactiug, froxn the nooessity andur which ha was plucoil uf supporting 
meoroeuarioB to defend himself agfunat tho fusanlts uf Ikltuius < 'hnrch, 
aud puuplu. Thu (.'huKli dcJioil lu8 murcciumes, becaoM the uuithcmii 
of tho ccclctoiuitic, vhcti dirvctud iiguiiuU, tbu ntliug pOWOIB, was hutu io 
moot with ■ doop roeponsc in the heart of the pwiplc, who, even to 
boroiiB and moooreh^ coaed in annoor, becomo fomudaUo from thsir 
umnbors.' — (pp. .5-6.) 

Till' actiiHi of rfie Chun-h as the protector of the weak, wilii 
l})e accompanying evil to which it was exposed in the temptation 
to go beyond its proper function, ore forcibly itatcd, and there 
is a very clear and imjiartial estimate of the advantages and tbc 
disadvimtagL-s of mouastictsin, as to which the Dean agrees nuhcr 
with the opinions which we oorselves have lately expressed thut 
widi the more romantic views of M de Moiitikmbert. AmoD^ 
other subjects which are discussed are the Crusades, — as to which 
tbc author is careful to point out the ^ood which rcsultctl from 
them, notwithstanding all that was mistaken in tbc design, 
faulty in tbc execution, or unsuccessful in the result as to thctr 
immediati^ objert (pp. 48, seqq.) ; — and the influence oi' the 
institution of chivalr}', and tho rise of universities. In con- 
nexion with the last of these subjects, the author is led into a 
defence of liberal education, as distinguished frum tbc special 
training fur a profession ; and wc extract a passage which may be 
nsad with interest even by those wlio are aJrcaily acquainted 
with the brilliant Lectnres in which Dr. Newman (although 
not without some display of his Roman peculiarities) has lately 
advocateil the same cause — 

' A liberal education ig to tho present time the cbatactoristle of 
what is called a nuiTer&ty edacation. By a liberal edacotion is 
meant a non-profosaioDal oduoation. By a Don-profbssioual uduoation 
ifl metut nil cdncation cunduotod without reference to the fotnro prtK 
Ebarion, ax calling, or Hpeeial pttrsoit for which tho penun under 
edocaticm is designed. It is on education whioh is regarded not 
merely u a mciuis, but as Bomething which in in itsolf on oad. ^le 
end i>ropo0ed is not tho formation of the diviiM, or tho phymoiaii, or 
thu uwyur, or the statesman, or tho soldior, or tho man of hnsineaa, 
or the iMiioiiist, or the chemist, or tho nuui of scieuco, or even the 
scholar ; but Himply of the thiukor. 

' It is odiuittud tlint tliti highest eminonoe oon only bo attainod 
by the ooooontratiou of the miud, witli u piercing intensity ood 
gingleneea of viow. npon one field of aotiou. In order to excel, o«cb 
mind most have ltd 8pvci£c und. A miui may know many tliingR 
well, but there is only one thing upon which he will be pre-eminent^ 
louuod, and become an authority. The profeedonol man may be 
oomporad to one whose eyo is fixed njvno a micriNfioope. The rest of 

the 



• 



d 



Lives of the ArchbUhops of Cattterhury. 95 

__ [irld ie nbBtraeted from his fiold of nRion, and the eye, though 
lUUTOiTOil to a scarcely pcrooptiblQ Lole, is ablu (o ecu wliot is indis- 
ccrttiblu hy otlicni. ^Iiuu Iiu ulwurrus accoratelj^ ho becomes, in has 
Apartment, a Icarncl Tunn, and when he roveals hia DbserTatioDa ho 
is A benefactor of his kiu<1. All that the imivotsity system docs it to 
duUy iho profe68toiml L-duuatiou aa lung ob poaiuMo ; it would npplv 
to the traiuing nf tho mind a diaciplino analogoiu to that wmcn 
oommon BonsQ RnggcRts id what n>lat4j« to bodily oxeroiso. A father, 
atnbitiona for his son that he might win tho pnzu nt tho Olympian 
paOBH, or in tlie I'j-thiau ficldi^ dovutud bis firet Ktt&ntian not to tho 
technicalities of the ^ame, but to tho general conditiou and morals of 
the youth. Tho Hocoees of tho athlete d(^>cnded upon Me firBt t)(jcuiuiug 
u hualthy man. So tho univonuty Bytitoni traiiu) the man and de&^rs 
the prufeesiooal odncation aa long tm circnmatanocg will jwriuit. It 
toaluH provision, beforu tho eyo is narrowed to tho microscope, that 
tbo eye itself shall be in a healthy condition ; it oxjmiids t)io mind 
before contracting it, it wonld odocato mind as soch before bonding 
it down til tho pruffSAinniil point ; it does not regard tho mind 
w an animal to bo fattened for tho market, by cramming it with fuod 
bcforo it has acqnirod tho power of digestion ; bat treats it rather a& 
so instrument to ho tnuod, us a motal to bo rofined, as a weapon to be 



.his is the system which tho old muTcrBitici of Europe have 
tnheritod. 

'Philology, logic, tuid maUicuiuticB^ oro etill tho inbinunonte 
employed for the discipline of tho mind, which is the end and object 
of a lilwral udactdaon.' — (ii. C3-5.) 

Dean Hook remarks that nil the old nutiioritics for the hlstor}' 
of die Aiiglo^Normnn timo, with tin; rxcojttitm of tho letlrrs of 
Herkd's ai]i:ij,'imisi, Ciilbi-rt l-'oliot, itn; on tbt* side ujipiisitd Ui 
tlif Cruwu. i'liiii statement is, inileed, sumewhat too broad ; for 
such chroniclers as Kalpb de Diceto and William of Newburgh 
re ccrtajnly nut to be reckoned as viulcutly bieraTchica.) and 
Iversc to tlie royal sido, even as to the question Ixttween Henry II. 
And Bii'kul : while Robert of Thoripny 1* in general a strong 
partisan of Henry, although as to that particular question he 
observes a remarkable silence until he reaches the point at which 
all men pnifosscd to agree in reprobation of the Archbisliop's 
mnrdcr, and in rcrcrence for him as a martvr. 6ut» be this as it 
mav, the Dean is determined to be impartial, and in as far as 
nosailile to make up from lils own resources for such defects at 
have been left in the evidence by the prejudices of former ages, 
bj the ravages of time, or by the timidity of some ebrniiielcrs 
who were anwillin}^ to gti ngninst the streani of npinlnn curreol 
in their own class. As the authorities are all on one side, and 
are strongly tinged by the * odium tbeologicum, which is of all 

passions 



XiMi of the Archhisfu^ qf CaiUerbury. 



passions tbe most unscrupulous in tbe discoloration of facts antl 
the aspersion of character,' be is — 

' inclined in the personal diRpittcs bctn*eon tbo kings and the arch- 
IjialtopB to tako the mo^t fAvunmhlo rjew tliat oircnmtttances vnil per- 
mit of tlic oayingB and doJuga of the furniur. The kings wcro gone- 
rally right in principle, thua^ placing thcmsclvtie in the viTong hy 
the ungoTemablo temper which woe llu>ir cqtbo, if not on horoditot^ 
miuun.'— (ii. 68,) 

And in tr;iTh he sonictimes adrocatcs the royal side to a degree 
which is rather surprising- 

Dean Hciok (xmstdcrs lliat Archbisliup Lonfrane was the author 
of tht? Niirinan Coiufueior's ecf lusiastical ]H>Iic^', * which tliL* suc- 
cessors of Uie Conqueror endeavoured to enforce, and which some 
of the most distinguished of the successors of Lanfranc, such as 
Anselm and IJcckct, endeavoured lo put aside' (ii. 143); but we 
must hesitate to follow our author to me full extent of his opinions 
in this mailer. No doubt William and Lanfranc undei-stood 
each othfir, and worked cordially together; and while Wiltiam 
was the one sovereiffn of the time to whom Grejjfory VII. did oot 
venture todictate, tliere was no great sympathy between Lnnfranc 
and Gregory. The Archbishop did not enter into tbe scheme of 
papal dominion : he was not very zfaloua for (In;gory, as opposed 
to the antt}N>pc Clement ; while on the other hand, in the cucha- 
ristic controversy, where Lanfranc was the chief advocate of 
transubsiantiatiori, Gregory took little interest, and was willing; 
to tolerate the opinions of Lanfmnc's opponent Berengnr.' But 
that Lanfranc supposed the King of r.nglnml — whose kingdom 
had hern gainetl under a banner consecrated by Pojw AU^- 
ander U. — to have any right in ecclesiastical matters which had 
not beIong«l to bim as Duke of Normandy, or in which other 
sovereigns did not Bbanr,t we must hesitate to believe. As a 
8{)eciinen of tlu- liberties of tht* national Church, Dean H<iDk 
tells as that — 

* When there were two or mate popCH in existence, as iras froqnontly 
the case in the uuBOrablu sclufiius of the age, the right of chiKning his 



4 
I 



* At to Uiii coDliovvrK)', Dcaa Hook wefOH lo overrftte tU« amcunt of ptvTiou 
»cc|u«iuuuc« brtwei^o lanfranc nnil l^rcngar fli. IMi), The old bioftnpb^r et 
LanfmBCr in nying tliftt Bcrcoj;&r -wrnU to him, 'iptaai funiliari boo' 'Migu, 
Patrol, cL 34). mcane, appai-vudy, ttjal the; ««re Dot on such trroii m would 
have womuitt'd Ifac familiar midrew. 

t Thin I'laiin was sBHoned \ij Williain Kunia, u ippc&rt from a speech of tJw 
Bi&hop of Darham lo AoHln. 'Qaod culm domiatu tuns CI oMier in ooni 
domiuationc sua prrcipuuiu hutwbnt, ri in fin «uin cvmcHa rtpibna Dnnfctrv rvrf<«« 
at, lio« ei qiumiatu in tc est inti{iic ta)lt«.* Eadmer, *Hut. nororaiu.* I. i. 
(Mignc, dtx., 384.; 

pop* 



Lives ofthi Arc/UniJioi/s of Canterbury. 



97 



'08 vested in tho kuig ; ea Ibnt tliB clergy n-cre not {N!raiiUud to 
acknuwiedffe any uno ns pnpa tintil the ro}-nl couscnt lind beoo ob- 
tained.'— (l. 141.) 

Kn{;l.in4l had. n<f doubt, the ri^lit ti> cbon&c* its I'ope in cases 
whore ibe cardinals bad made n disputwl election; for the? deci- 
sion in such case* was sotlled b_v tbfir''ncnil mlbrsiun of VVVslem 
Cbristrndum tn one or the other uf the rival I*oj)es, But that the 
part which Mn^land was In espouse should be detciinine*! hy the 
Kin^ alone, apjiears to us botl-i an unlikely and a very inexpedient 
anangpinent. F.lscwbere, sovereifnis claimed no such exchisive 
powerof decision. Henry !V. of Germany wassupportcd liy eoun- 
ril< of German and Italian prelates in bis opposition to Gregory 
\ 11., anil I'rederick llarlKin»Kn in his oppisition to Ah-xander 111.; 
anri that the mere ivill of a kinjf who, in addition to beintr '"nut 
II g-entlrman,' niijrlit Iw noloriouslv a man of no relifrious i'e<>ling, 
»himld iniiHi»- a piipc on tlie English clert;\, in opjMijiition to 
theli- uwii judgment and to tho majority of Latin ('hriatcndom. 
would surely have been a very t{ucstionable advantaofe for them 
— a piece of national libcrtv in church matters which they might 
jx»»ibly luivf n-^ardcd ns very like slavery. 

The contest between Church and State bejjan under Lanfranc's 
successoi. Anselm. Among late writers in general, there ha» 
bcrn a dis|>ositiun to treat this eminent man kindly. His genius 
aa a. philosopher and a thcolo^i.in— hi& saintly reputation — his 
suffeiinpa for his cause and his behaviour under them— his en- 
^ngin^ personal character, as reprt-scnted by liis biographer 
Kadoier — all bespeak nur interest, while we look with natural 
dislike on die brutal and profane William Kufns and on the able 
iHit miicrupulouB Henry IJeauclerc. But Dean Ho»tk"s view of 
Anselm is far less favourable. While allowing him credit for 
ability, learning, and sanctity, he thinks that the Arehbitibop was 
a man at once unpractical and impracticable — a prey to a subtle 
form <if pride, wliith, unsuspected by himself or by his friends, 
swaye<l him in all his actions and led him into grievous and 
calamitouii errors: — 

'For three-ond-lhirty happy ycani Anseliu lived f&t Bccj on object 
of odnlation, wboMc sayingK wcrn recordod an the dictated uf vrisdoni, 
whose word ■was law. The men revered him, the women lovod him, the 
t«Ugioas world huuuun-d hint an u suiut, the profane world regarded 
hito la tmdowtsd with virtucH mure than human. Xotwitbtttaiidiiig liis 
nutnjrand grtat virtues. Anselm. neverthult**, wna only a ma", and 
waa not exempt frum the faalt« and frailties ever inc idcuc tu hiimiuiity. 
Wo ore not Burpriiied to find the «iii of spirituiil pride, notwith- 
standing the semblance uf humility, developing itself m hi» character, 
iinfxrccptiblj* to himwelf, and not acknowledged by his lulnuwi-s. 

V..I. 112.— A*.>. '2-23. H Through 



98 Live» i^ the ArchbUhcp* of Canterbury. 

Throngb fmiritn*] pride, with its concomitant Bclf-complnpcncy. bo 
never uuagiued it poesiLld tliat lie could bo mistaken in his jiuigTnr;nt ; 
and while be cspccted an immediate nctjnieRceDou in bin ojiiniitna on 
the purl (if nthcre, he treated nil who diffurtxl from him, not with auger, 
for ho did not often lose his tcrapor, but with pity, whicli, implying 
fmperioritj, wm especiiLllj- pmvuVin}^ to tlioKc ttLo had bei^n pro- 
viously irritalotl or conU.-mued. It in to tliis fnull of character, toga- 
Iher with bis ignorance of hunum nutoro, that wo may trace mucb of 
the tronblo to which he was sabjectod iu hia later yeuv, and no saull 
poiiiuii of the evils of which he was the nnixiiiBCtong cause.' — 
(pp. 182-183.) . 

We can quite b(>licre in the possJbilit>' of such a character as 
that which is here so forciblv skftcbrd ; hat we do not think that 
Ansplm's chamctiT was of this kiiul. The (li'-srHptiim serins to 
us ini-onsistfiiit, not onlv with Kailmer's a(:ci>unt of him, hut wttb 
the toni! anil spirit of his own works. Tlial Williiini Rufus wac 
a bad man, Ur. Hook verv fully allows ; but he believes that a more 
prudent tacticiiin than Ansetm would have known how to manage 
him, and the whole courwi- of the coiit*'St between tlic two is 
represented ns a string of displnya of * want of tncl ' on tlie An-h- 
bisliop's jKvit (ii. IPiVISV)). 'ITiere is, inde4>d, something like a 
%'ein of caricature tliroughout the account of Ansetm, and, as we 
have already seen that Dr. Hook on principle niakc-s the best 
tliat be con of the Kings, so it seems as if in this instance he were ^- 
resolved to make the worst that be could of the Arehbishop. H 
Thu-t, wi:- are lohl thut, after having declined two iiivilations from 
Hugh, Earl of Chester. Anselm came to I'jngland on being asked 
a third time, befause be had lieen * assailed in his weak poioL 
Tlic Karl's salvation might depend on his receiving spiritual con- 
solation from so holy a man ' (ii. 188). VVTien the King and the 
Archbishop Itad had a differpnce as to the .imount of the present 
which Anselm was expectetl to offer on bis promotion, we arc 
ironically told that — 

'Anselm rctnmcd to rftntcrbury self Batiafied ; ho had done lib 
duty; he had made his offering; the rejection of it had exoncnttcd 
him fruui all HW«ptoioii of itimony ; he had maiubiim:d bts iliguity ; 
he bad given good advice to tbo king. What moit could tlie wwld, 
ibe Cborch, or hia eooscienoe require of him T — (ii. liJti.) 

So, after anotlier collision, it is snid that 'the Arrhbishon 
retum«I to Cantrrhiiry, there t<) receive the ailulation to whtcli 
he was accustomed from monks and women ;* and be is repre- 
sented as satisfied that gross abuses should continue, because be 
hail been prevented by formalities from correcting tliem in the way 
which be would have best likcNl ; while 'one thing* imlv ' weighrd 
upon his mind — he had not yet attained the pall (ii. 2<H). 

Again, 



« 



I 



d 



Imus of the Artkbishoja of Canlerimry. 



9B 



Af^in, when a qoestion arose as to tbe eqaipment of the soldiers 
whom the Arrhbislto]) svM as hU contingent for an rJtpc'litton 
against the WeUh, it is «aiil that thry were such as ^ ovi-n Falstalf 
wauhl have l>erji ashameil U> pass through the guoti city "f 
Coventry' with (it. 217). Ansnlm is rrpresenled again and 
again ai lecturing the King in an unbecomingly *su|»u'C'ilious* 
and oracular tone. He u blamed for VVUliams relapse into 
vicious cuursps after having Tunefl amendment in a dangerous 
sii-kuf.*ss (ii. 19j$). Kven his ntlai-k an t]u: nourdv fashions of 
curled locks iuid pointed sh<>t» is n-orcKeiited as if hu warred 
against diese follies on their own u count, whereas, in truth, 
they were olleiisive to bim as tiie outward symbols of a lui.urious, 
nnmanly, aiirl gn>ssly vicious life. And, besides these smaller 
matters, it srvuis to us that Dr. Hook lias strained things tf> the 
utmost on the opposite side. For instance,— one uf the points 
in dispute bct^rcen William and Ansetm was the practice of 
keeping bishopricks and abbacies long vacant, while the income 
during the vacancy was appmpriated by the King ; and even this 
Dran Hook defends as follows : — 

* The temporalities of an episcopal see dozing a vacaucy were then, 
•s now, in tbt- hands of the king. Dut in mudcru times, when thftj 
nuo'cety of tliu law haa htxiu astiurtud, cuulusiuHtiual pmpcrty is caro- 
fally haetanded. and the scciunolatian paid over to tiio incnmbctit nn 
his appointment, the corporation sole never having coaaed to exist. 
In th«i eleventh century, as Uie pruiterty of u minor, though made over 
to him when he come of sge, was applied by the Huzoraiu to his 
ovn pnrjtoses during the minority, ho William aanimed the pus- 
Mtflsiuu of rdl tlie j)rt>porty belonging to n vacant bishnprie or abbey \ 
and, iu order that the royal eoflers inight lie tilled, he prolonged 
Tsciuicv to an iudofinito period by rcftising to nominate to the office^ 
-(>. 18G.) 

But on this we may remark, thot the pmrtire nf William Rufi 
was entirely a novelty; that in Saxon times the revenues of 
vacant abbacy or bishnprick were applied, under the care of tl 
bishop or the archbishop, as the case might Ik, to religious or' 
charitable uses ; that under the Conquonir they were, as now, 
'rarefidly huslwnded, ami the accumulation jKiid over to the [m-xt] 
inrumtn-nt.'* And, as the practice of seizing the in(K)me for tlie 
King was novel, si>, too, it bnmght nith it a temptation, which 
hiul not before existed, to prolong the vacancy for the sake of the 
profits. Nor is there any force in the sup|>09cd analogy with the 
CUSP of lov lamhiwners during their minority ; land was held 
in feudal times under the obligation of military service — an 
obligatioD which a minor could not fulfil ; and minority was 




neither 
lengtliontnl out bv litm ; wlicrens tliv %'ac-aiicy o] s(h>» anU ubbeyk 
bcviMuI a rcasfinnble tiinu was entirely due to the King's will. 
We need not dwell ou tUe wu»t<* ami spoil, or on the cruel frriiid- 
ing- "f the tenants, which seem Ut liav<^ been usmilly comrailted 
during sueb vai-atiries, for tUi-- King's prolil, ajid to the damage 
of future incunibeuts ; but the main objection to tlie system is of 
another kind, namely, that for the sake of putting into tke King's 
purse money which did not belong to him, the spiritual sujicrin- 
tendrnrc of abljcys, diocesos, or provinces, was left in abi'yancre 
lor vettTS, We are sure th:,t Dean Hook would bp one of the last 
men delibemtcly to make light of this objei-tinn ; and we must 
nvow iliat we have been utterly surprised at finding him inclined 
to defend or to palliate the abuse in question. 

Agnin — as to the choice between Pope Urban and his oppo- 
nent, which became a subject of dispute Imtween the Archbishop 
and the King, we are told tliat — 

* An8«lm was clearly in the wrong. His first step should have been 
to call upon liViUiiun tu keep the promitw formerly mado to the arcb- 
bisbup, and to dcclara publicly whether h*- would admit tht: uluiius uf 
Urban or thtMse oi ClemcDt. As Anacbn, while abbot of Bee. had 
rec0iT«d Urban as his pop«, if the king had chosen Clemc-ut, the arch- 
bishop might have ruoigued. Rut he had no right wlisti-ver to make 
his cloction irrespectively of the royal aathority. — (ii. 2U6.) 

Here it seems to us that the rase is put unfairly against 
Anselm. For, although the King had not made a dedamtion 
whirtber he would adhere bi run- or to llie nthtO' ut the riral 
Popes, Anselni had expressly iiitiinated to him, before receiving 
consecration as Archbishop, that he held himself bound by the 
acknowledgment of Urban, which he had made as ablw»t of Bet; 
and William, by favouring his proniotion to Oie archbishoprick, 
nntn'ithstaiuliiig that declaration, must have l>cen cxrnsitlered as 
pledging himself to the side <if Url»n. But for the understand- 
ing that there would be no difiiculty as to the question of Pope 
or Anti-Hope, Anselm would not have accepted the primacy ; and 
when he signified to the King his intention of seeking the pall 
from the Pope (which was then an essential form f<»r the exercise 
of metropilitan authority), llif* Kinij's que-stlon, * Fmm which 
Pope?* and his furioas dcclaraliim that he would have no Pope 
ownml except by his own authority, were really a breach of ■ 
pmitire rngagement, on which Anselm bad staked tlje whole 
<!oursi> of his future life. Indeetl. as to the ronte&ts between 
Aiwelm ami the sons of the Conqueror, it seems to us that !>ean 
Hook has really said as much as is necessary for the Arch- 
bishop's justification, in admitting that *tlie bad men, William 

tnd 



I 
I 



I 



A 



Xt'cv« vf the Arclibishops of Cantrrbun/. 



101 



and Hcnrv, to whom he wns opposed, tboufjlit nothing of the 
Chiirrh, but simply of their own auttioritv * (ii. 266). It is true 
thnt Anselm's opposition was carried on in the interest of the 
pnjMrv ; .in<l we tully agree with Dean \hxiV in thinking; that 
' the experience of ages ' has shown thnt what was then reganU'd 
as the libei'tv of the Church involved ' the most oppressive 
spiritual dcsjwitism.' But we arc not inclined to blnme Anselm 
for hnving nctcil acrnnling lo his lights, and it is evident thnt 
ihp prntcnsinmi of the Anglo-Norman kings, especially when 
ftsitcrted by men of Kuch chamrter as theirs, were equally fauliv 
on the other side. 

In short, while we agrre with Hean Hook that Anselm was a 
man of thought and speeulation. i-ather than one well qualified 
for aetivi- life— while ui- l>e]ifV(> that, although William Rufus 
rould not have been managed rjuile su easily or so i-nttrelv as 
our author supposes, yet something might have been made of 
him by skilful management — it appears to as that Anselm — 
in some respeets the gn^atest of all tlie English primairs — has 
not met with entire justice at the biographer's hands. MureovLT, 
as the Dean does not profess to \vrite the literary history of 
the Archbishops, Anselm lias the disadvantage of appearing 
herr in that part of his character only which is the most open 
to ditqiute, while we are obliged to take almost wholly on crust 
those merits which made him the greatest teacher of the Church 
since Augustine of IIip]K>.* 

Passing over the lives of Kalph of Esrures, of William of 
CovbeiL. ami of Theobald, we come to the more famous name of 
Thomas Beckct. But the very tact that so much has lately been 
written about this Archbishop makes it the less necessiry for tis 
to discuss his character and history ; nor are we incHniHl to enter 
here into any disputes with the champions who, from very 
Various quarters, have lately risen up to do battle for him — 
fXtTf'me Romanists ami Hildebran<lizing Anglicans — theorists 
who regard him as the champion of an opfiressed iiationality, ur 
those whosf? favour is ready to wait on luiy opponent of any 
rovalty. Dt-an H(H>k, it is hardly necessary to say, does not 
belong to &ny of these classes. He justifies Becket's opposition, 
as Chancellor, to the hierarchical claims which lie afterwards 
ajssertnl (it. .H.'K)). He is little iuclitiiil ti> regard him as a saint. 
He thinks liim wnmg as lo the question of exemirtirig the clergy 
from secular jurisdiction (ii. o97). In the 'Constitutions of 

* W« tany notice that a tlialo^e. K-nriiiii rhe title of ' Elucidinutn,' which hu 
bjr muM hrvu xKCctlNni ta Aittvlu. sjid which Dvou Uook qiioii* largely u ilw 
wt>rk of Lanfranc (it.. OS-lo&j. U rrnllj- hv u. ■a)iii«what later nathor, lionnrioa 
nf AuUiu. S«« Higve, clxxii. l^, or th« ■ Imt. Lin^mirv de U Pnnte,' I. xii. 

Clareadou* 



102 Lives of the Archbishops of Canttrhury. 

Clarendon ' he teca nothiiij^ but old Eni^luh (and, therefore, 
his view, ritfht) principle as to the rrlations of Chiirrh and 
Stntp (ii. 40y). His general view of the Archbishop's struggle is 
thus summed up : — 

The toDdcDcy of B^ket's prlncipl« wu fo mpersode ■ eitfS 

iidespotiian, and to e^tnblisb, which is worme, a Apinhutl d«npotinn; 

fhnt in point (if fiict he was a higli-principlt-d, high-fipirite<l donut- 
grigne, who wiw teaching the people bow to etnigfilo for tiieir libortiea ; 
ft stmgglo which was sood to ooinmenoe.'^ — (ii. •197.),' 

lo sn far, then, ns Anselm and Beclcet hail tlte cnmmon object 
of establishing^ n Pajwi! drapiitism in ujipositinn to that of the 
KnjGrlish Cron-n, Dean tlook disapprorc« of both alike ; but It 
would Beem that the tendency of Becket's proceedings to work 
out civil lihprtr, has prueiired for him a dpgrre of Bvmpntby 
whitrh is denied t« Ansi-lin. At all evrntJi, tht? later iLrchbishop 
is treati'd witli far greater indulgenee than the earlier. 

Dean Hook and Mr. Pearson .igree with other late writers in 
wishing that the materials for the history of Becket may soon 6Dd 
some more satisfactory editor than Dr. Hilcs; and in this wish 
every one who has any knowledge of r>r. Giles' volumes must 
heartily concur. Tliere is only one quarter to wliith we can look 
tor the means of prcxlucing a new edition — the fund girinted by the 
I^ords of the Treasun' for the pubHration of the * Chronicles and 
Memorials of Great Britain and Ireland ;' and, indeed, it may be 
snid that our future estimate of Dr. fiiles' labours will depend on 
tlic eminent person with whom the selection iif worts for that 
series rests. Without the aid of public money a new eilition i« 
not to be expected ; while it may prtrtty safely be assumed that, 
but for the existence of Dr. Giles' etlition, there would have been 
no question as to thr pmprietv of including the livps and mrre- 
spnndcnce of Becket among the volumes to Iw issued by the 
Master of the Rolls. If, thcrofure, a nt-w edition in that series 
be gTai)te<l. wc shall be able to think of Dr. Giles as a useful 
pioneer; if it be refused, we must regard him as having pre- 
venteil, by his uuhnppv pnlilii-alion, a gotxl work, which but for 
him woidd Ktmiist rertiiiid\ have been done. 

If a new edition Iw undertaken, we may expect it to contftin, in 
addition to the materials collected by Dr. Giles, not only iKo 
metrical Life by Gamier, which has been published by I*n>- 
fessors Bekker, of Berlin, and Hippmu, of Catni, anil the sa|>- 
picmentan' pieces which Dr. Giles bims4df has sent forth throo^li 
the medium of the * Caxton Sftciety,* but prolnbly other Uiings 

of 

* As tn oae of these, a composite biography on the plan of the ■ Qosdritogos,' 
wUeh Dr. Giles sscribei (o a supposed * Phtltp of iMft' (AMcdots IMm, ftc. 



i 



4 



J 



Z.iv€s ofOie Ardihiahops of Canterbury. 



uf importance which have aerer yet appeared iii print lli«t« 
ma J, itiili^ctl, Ik! a question as to the cipcvlicnry of piiblishinf; 
the LiIl- by Ui>>lH)p nnuulisun, uf Exitt^r, nliii-li apjienrs to b(^ 
almoct mitircly cumpiU-^l fmin bottks iilrtsaily priiit*-*!,* \(ir even 
if it n'ere possible in rtxrorcr a coinpilatiou wliirh ix luiitl tu liavc 
bc«i e-xeiuted by a monk of CroyUnd, and presented by the 
abbot uf that monastery tu Archbishop Laugton,! would it be 
worth priuling, luiless it contaiiuN) sonio (.■leiiiciits peculiar to 
itsc'IC. nut iu all probability then> must be valuable ualL'riaU yet 
unprinttML The Life by VVilllam of Canterbury, for example, 
whieb has until lately been known only by the extracts in the 
' Quadriloffus,' i^ said to exist in a caniplcte stato in Winchester 
Collc^ ; and, if it be considered how much has been brought to 
tight by Dr. Giles, wc can hantly suppose but that there 
Jtjjl remains an ample gleaning to reward some more pains- 
taking inquirer. Uut even in the absence uf new materials, 
the purgation of llie text from the irmumerable blunders which 
dtJifigure it — tlie critical analysis of the Lives, so as to sbnw 
which of tlie writers borrowed from which, uiid to what family of 
tnulition each one is tu be referred % — above all, the arrangement 

of 



103 
heivl 

tinrr I 



Vnt. xy\\.), we fhonlil Imre 8oiiK-()iini; tosa;, if ttii» w«re a fl( pUcc for ditciiMiag 
tlic siilijecL Afi il is, wv filiall only }p.Mrd niirwlvirs agsiust Iwing euppowd to 
mgtrm in tlie rditot's vivvn tu lo ihe anihonhip. 

' Id a ba»t]r >:xauitii&ligu of Uic Hwllciau slS^ tb« coly UiiDg which lU^cIc ti« 
U tKW iu Ibc Lifu it»:It'(iU <li«tiDsui»bf-i fiuoi the luinicuJuui ftuppleiucul; ww 
lh« Rrrnnnt of itif Archbishop's iorclj«liiig« nn ilw dar of hU iiiunl^r. The 
ciib«t»noe of tho psMsfie U givea by I'rofesscr Stsn)f>. id nU * M«ii)orisl« of Can- 
terliiir},' pp^ :-S-'.t, cd. H. finuditon uiohalily copied thtt trom eODW older 
bonk ; if *o, what was it? adiI dr^cs it Mill cJiiM? 

t Wv hav« not observed thai inj moilcm wriicr tiu notWd the poMa^ in 
wbich this compilsUnn is nWDtiaaML The cuutinuutor ot lugulf ttmtv^ thiil Abbot 
Hvary, l>«dBg unable lo ansnd the unoiJiiiou of rii. Thomas, in luM, but wuhiiiK 
M (to boaoar to thv occsuou, ic-nt Ihv Archbivbop a book of ibi' tuanyr's Lift- nod 
[' Pmrioa. 'a monacbo niutiaHterii >ui CrvyUod cgrcgie cotupibinni. Quae itaquv 
euMpilaiiu f\im<isi m&nyna orif^iiicm, ritani, tindu, gvstv <^xiliulll. oguueui, jras- 
Hoocni, cnnoni:taiioD(;ni, et quod exc«ll<.'iitiiu est epi*t«b» dirti iiiiirtYnii, >iiiiu vvl 
tllv Kl]i»,->^'1 alii illi, vd ptu iili>. Tcl i-uutra illoio. Mil de illotcripceruiii, loci* 
etimpi-iiniilii'*' (tuignifiiti'i- iiiseriiit, ana cum Cutaloeo Erudilorum ejiudem our- 
r^«, luriilctiiiT ooniinri ct declnnl.' (Ili*t, CroyliiAd. ap. F«U, ilM-um AugUc. 
WTi|rf<ir«4, 4T4-J Th« pvculi&rily of ihr work »ppriira to ha.ve c«nauit«d ib tbc 
interwifttriag of the corrapujideutu' with the uarnuTir. 

* We iii'ji ht^re olTfrr a itolntloD of two qiK»tiaa8 which have puzsled ■ laU- bio- 
mpber of 'll(.s:ki;t, Mr. BobttTtSon. (l.j After having ttutpd itrnt the writer 
known as 'Anon/iniu Lombclbctiais ' ib the ouly aneivnt autbunt} for calling 
Beekrt** moiher Av^vi. bm that Foot, in bis 'Acts and Uanummti,' givca ber Ua' 
nuw of i^M, Mr. Robvrt>oii iuk*,*Wb«ace did b» derive ii?' (p. 14). Tb« 
■miner iiyllul fta. wa* ac<{uaiulcd with llw Lanbetli US., wbicb be «lwwb«re 
nwntlomBa ' tiavine thi* name of th*.- utiihorcat out' i;i.353,«l. 1664 1. (J.; U« boE 
thrown doobt on tn« ttatemeiit tbai Ikcket raitgncd hit ttrchbishopric into the 
i'ope'ft baiidh at Sti^i. cVieflf on the groiuul iJiul the itoiy becooiGi moredLiDDCt 
In prapurtiuii as ihi; writvn are inorv ri'niote twva the toeiw. ' What likclibovd 



4 



104 



Lives of the Archhishfpi <tf Caiilerhur^. 



of the vast mas« oi' letters (inclmling' tlioscof John of .Snlisbury,* 
Armilf iif Listeux, Pelcr of Blo'is. iin<l others, wliit-h bear on the 
st<irv iif Bcrkol) in one utries, with [imptT rfffirtl to rhrorinlogy, 
ant] suinricut (nltttoti};U not too niurli) aniiolittion — -th^ao would 
be enough to cxercisf! the skill of the future eiUiur; and by per- 
forming them even in b tolerable degree, he would entitle 
himself to the lieany (tratilude of all students of Knglisb or of 
ecflosiastical histury. Indeed, we caniiot think of such n bmik 
without envying: the fortunate readers, whom it nould enable to 
learn with ease and pleasure, in n few days, more than the 
plodding' industn* of their ciders has been able t»> discover in W) 
many months, iii the face of the iliHicultics raisctl, nimost as if 
with deliberate malice, by the late editor of * Snnetus Tliomas 
Cantuariensis.' 

It mi^Lit, ]M>rh:ips, be worth while to collect the notices nf 
Becket which are scattered over foreign chronicles; although 
these notices, in so far as we know, are scanty, ami of no great 
impoitance. 'I'lius in the Chronicle of St. Lnurencp's at Liege, it 
is relate*] that among tlie archbishop's fellow-students at FarU 
was one who, n» abbot of St. Laurence, long after erecled the Grit 
altar of St. Thomas of Canterbury that was seen in that rcgion-t 
So, inthcChrunicIrof Andres, a monastery near Ardres, and in that 
of St. Hrrtin's, by Joliii of Vpres, we have s<)me slight details as 
to the arch hi shop's last davs on the return from cxile.^ But it 
seems prettv clear that, whrci the fame of St. Thonins was up, a 
connexion with him was often feipieil for the glory of particular 
places or persons. The story i-clated by iMatthew Paris, wi to a 
sup}K>sed interview at Harrow with the Abbot of St. Alban'*,! 
a[ipc]ir.>i to Iw of this kind. In like manner it seems unlikriv (on 
grounds of chronology) that he can hate had among his fi-llow 
students at Paris, Cunra<l, Bishop ot Wiirzburg, who was a 

is there,' be iAt. • thai AUn •honld h&«« been to very clrcamtlsnliillf tnfbnwd 
as to in inciilvnl nf w!iirh FitJESk-pIirti ami Orini tprak k> TiDcpnnitil)-?' Tp. 
;!4.1.} WillKiiit pniiig tHrihcrinlii [he mitU-r, wc miiy rctnsrk ihat Alan, who WM 
Hwicd prior of ChrUtchnrch, Cnntertinrv, in 1179, had twen.utiitl lir-t.u canon ef 
Ucnwcntc, where trom llTa ihe archbialiiipHck was filK-d by Ihihrrt Lptnlard,tbe 
companiou of Keeket'a atndin at I*oniicny. wbn mim iiotnunrilj bave l>een one ^i 
of tnc bigh«t pMtibte .iiithnriiiM a* lo t\ie i^v<>iiu nf hi* vxik-. (Gervas. Oorob. api ^H 
TwjlHlen, \. Scriplorvf, M.*})}: O&ccninttlv Vilis l'ontitii:iiu,i. llM^.cd. Rcnn. 1R17.) ^| 
Tbii» it Hiay bf tbat Alan's KTatemcnt rests xa indqx^Klntt InfoniUltioii of tht ^^ 
very Imtst kind. 

" Wtf have rery lately received froui Gcriiianj a work cnliUM 'Johannei ^ 
Sort.'difritititifs nacb L«lK-n and Sludioi, Schriften und PhiloMfihie, vm, Tir C. ^| 
Scti&anrbmidt, t^iiaif, IBfia,' In so far a» we bate been able to rzamine ihii ^1 
volnme, il appears to contain as excellent account of John's life, writings, and 
opiatoo*^ 

t diron, S- Latirt-Dt. 1.eod,, ap. Manenf, Coll. .\ii]|iliM. St. 1U90. ^^ 

; D'Achrrv, SpiciJ.ii. eil-'J; Murtene Thes^inr, iii. r>&7. ^H 

§ Hist. .Mnyw, i33-* ; VitB Abbatntn, 91-3, vd. Wuik. ^BI 

CrDsader 



I 
I 



I 



Lives of the Archbishoja of Canterbury. 



105 



Crusader in the end of the rentun", ami was munleretl in 1202 ;* 
ami allliniigh it may W tnif llmt Liulolf, Archhishnji ol' Mngilc- 
burg. w.ts his rellow-puiiil at Paris, wo can hanllv supposn that 
he Btudin) there under Becket,as is sni<t by a writer in Leibnitz*s 
collection,! VVe even suspect that M. CSuizot, in the natural 
feeling of satisfaction at fiiKliiig' his (estate near Lisieux con- 
nrrtetl with a rcU'hratctl nainr, litis been less critical than he 
W4iul(l Xuwe otherwise been in tellinp us, on llie authoritv of local 
tmditiun ami of 'the most learned Norman a«ti()uarics,* that 
Bwket during his exile visited the abbey of Val Richer, and 
spent several moiit^is there, eii$raging in the spiritual exercises 
and in the boililv labours of the monks ('Memoires,' iv. 140-1). 
As the grounds on which tlie Nonnan antiquaries have foundeil 
their opinion are not given, it is not in our power to test 
their value, but the story appears to us altofjetlicr improbable. 
As the Val Richer was within the English king's territories, it 
is hardly to be imagined that Becket would have ventured to the 
place while uniler s<-ntence of banishment ; and, although he 
mav pOKfiiblv have tnrnetl out of his way to visit the abljot while 
pTOceediu)' from Sens fo Kouen, in bis return to Luf^land, his 
visit in tliat case could not have been such as M. Guirot 
describes. We need hardly add that, in such of the old autho- 
rities as we are actjuainted with, there is no mention of Val 
Richer. 

In connezinn with the name of liecket, we may notice a theory 
which has lately been put forth by the Rev. W. VV. Shirley, a 
gentleman who has carefully studle*! the Becket documents, and 
of whose abilities ami knowlcdi^e we wish to S|wak with the moat 
sincere respect. Mr. Shirley, iii a very valuable paper *<)n some 
Questions ccmp(K-teil with theChancellorshipof &*cket,'{ supposes 
that the office of Chancellor was raised, during Becket's tenure of 
it, from the sixth to the secf)nd place amonfr the jifreat offices 
umler the Crown ; nnd he i^rouiiils this opinion chiefly on the 
fact that i*itz.Steplien, in his account of Becket's Chancellorship, 
savs, 'C-iuio4*Ilarii Angtix digiiitas est, ut secundus a rege in 
n^gno habeatur :' — 

*On this pAifwago,' sayn Mr. Shirley, ' 1 would remark, first, that the 
esftvmom %vcvnd\is a rtge is certainly meant to be truulftted " (wcond 
from the king." not "kocodiI Io tlu; king," the chief jasticiur boiugthe 
nnc mbject of hi^ht^ nuik.' 

To OS it seems that this translation is certainly wrong-. In classical 

* Tlus ttalement it tniule bv Ucau Milmaa, HisL of Lauo Cbiiilianity, ii). 
412, (J. t, but wiiliont riBtniiig Vi Authority. 
t ScrtMom Kerum ltruiurici,Mtituii>, iii. 353. 
; PubTtshediD ihe'Uxrord Hiitoncal Socwl}'s Rtqxnls,' L8S1. 

Latin, 




Lives ijfthe Archtnthoja 0j Canterbury. 

LAtin, * sccuDclus a rege ' means ' next to the king,' as will ap^iear 
from the refprencei under the woixl Sccumlus in the commuD tlic- 
tioDaries.* The saino Is the sense in the Latin of the V'ui|ntt<j iiible, 
which might uaturallv be exjx'cti'd to govern tlic media?val usage ;\ 
and that suc-li was the case, may appear fnim a {Kissage of the 
chronirlur Kkkehard, who describes Albert, alterwards Ardn 
bishop of Mciitx, as having been, while (niancollor to Homy V. 
of Germany, ' per omnia wcundus a re{;e.' J We have, ihere- 
fore, no doubt as to the translation of thr words. Rut, supposing 
this settled, wliat do Uipy mean? The Cliaiicellor was eertajnij 
not next to till- King in dignity, fur between them were thoj 
IVinces of the Hlood, the rriniute, and at lea»t one great ofBcer, 
the Justiciar. Nay; since FitzStephen's words do not bear the 
sense which Mr. Shirley puts oti them, and so fix the Cbao- 
oellur's place as second aniuug th«r great officers, it is not ccTlAin 
that in Becket's time he stoi»d so high- *llie only solution that 
occurs to us is to be got partly by the help of die [nssago in 
Ekkcbard, and partly by a consideration of the wonls * in refftoS 
The nearness to the King which Ekkchard speaks of was evi- 
dently not a matter of precedence, but of intimacy ; and Fitt- 
Stepbcn seems to use the words * in regno,* nut as meaning^H 
'within tlie rcAlm,* but with the intention of confining his viev^^ 
to the constitution or government of the kingdom. And thus, 
although princes, archbishops, and not only the justiciary, but 
other great officers, may have been higher in dignity than ^e 
Chancellor — although favourites may, in fact, have possessed 
the King's ear to a greater degree than he^ — Uic Cliancellor may 
still have bttin 'sccumlus a rcge in regno,* as lieing officially the 
Sovereign's most conffdcntial a/Iviser. Or whatever the chao- 
cellor's place may have Ixvn in order of precedence, KitzstepbcD 
may have meant, by styling him *sccund«s a rcge in regno*', 
that he hud tlie chief shart! in the government — as (to take 
much stronger instance) the First L«)rd of the Treasury !s nc 
usually Prime Minister, alttiough his office confers no precodci 
on him, and iiis rank may be no higher than that of Priry' 
Councillor. Into the ([urstlnn at what time the Chancellor 
raised from llie sixth to the second jilai^e, vre do not bent 
undertake to enter.§ Than 

* Thos Hirttu* ISTS, Ihst in C'sppadocia tb« priest of Dslloaa was * un)«ria at 
potODtia secumlnA n rvre.' Vh K«Ilfi Alexamlr., 66. 

t t^. ' Et quoniudo Manloclueui jH<Uici geucris KCtuKlos s rcgt Amocto foertl.' 
EMlhtr. X. 3. 

t Ekkfli., Chrwi.. a.u. 1112 Cm Mime. cliv. 1024). The polnte of likeam 
iMtvMD ih« hiitorjr of Bnlcct and that of AlScrt— who, fn>iu Itfiilw b««n in sati* 
bitnircLival chancellor. Wcame a \vtj liitnirchicsl pnmate, and th« bitterest 
opponent of thi- Sovereign to whom lie ovtnl h'n See — htiv>> Iwra oftra ranarked. 

\ Mr. Shirli^5 la Inollncd to doaht whether Beckct was Hmry's Snt cbaaoettor, 

OB 



>oeD 
te a^l 

coooH 

"3 




Lica oftfie Arckbhhops of Caraerbury. 



107 



ThiTe is not much of interest in the life of Beckrt's respectable; 
sncceasorf Klclinrd. The next archbishop, Baldwin, ihctl as a 
cnuader at Acre, afwr having ilistin^ishfMl himself chiefly by a. 
qoairel with the monks of bis cathedral, whom be attempted to 
aupcrandp in their privilc^s ns to the election of archbishops by 
trmisferrin;; these tn an iiitmded rolleg»? of secular ranons. \Vc 
need not say tliat lie Ik well abused by the mnimstir u'riters ; and 
his successor, HuU-rt Waller, although he accummodatMl matters 
with the monks of the cathedral, and therefore receives something' 
like fair trratment from their chronicler, Oervasc, isenielly nbused. 
by Thorn, the chronicler of tlie rival M<inasterv "f St. Aujfustine.* 
Habert Walter was a man of n*markalile ability ia m:u>y ways 
— not, perhaps, a great divine, hut eminent as a military leader, 
both in Palestine and at home, as a judg;p, and as a statesman.! 

Last of the primates includetl in these volumes is Stephen 
L&n^ton — a man memomble for his stni^le ^^iust King John, 
in t)ehalf of the Pope's usurpation of the power to bestow the 
see of Canterbury, and afterwards for the part which he took in 
wriniriiifr from John, in opposition to the Papal inilueoce, the 
TfroBTiition of Enjjlisb libertit-s by the Great Charier. In the 
first uf these contests Dean Ilixtk is affainst Langton ; in tjie 
second, he is with liim. At pp. 69't~6, he even suggests such 
ar^ments as can be ofTere*! in mitigation of John's abject 
sabmission to the Pope ; X but we must think that this is some- 
what 



m tbe cratUMl that & docBtarnt in Kjrmfr U sUested by ' N. Kpo. EJr, et Catwel- 
Isria.' Mr. Po4« had «nppAiied ct to bi^ n ini»t»ko fftr T., tho iniiiaf nf Beclwi*! 
Chrislisn imne.itDd tbrrufore had rnolvi-d tbe H|tiiaturv itiNt twii, but Mr. Shirley 
is Dut caUKSod iriib tbii;. Tbi're il^ bowi^vcr. in tliv ' Anglin Sun.' k coutvta- 
pontnr Life of Nigel, Risliop of Elj. in which his politicnl drcnnisianci-ii it th« 
MC«uion of II«nrv arc to fiilly tpuki::i of i. K37), Uial liii chaiictdlorsliip eonld 
Dal h*y« ba-Mit ntimilictnl if In- had i-vi-rlKld tfai- uffin- : niiit >ll olhrr i;vidi!i)ei! tends 
W ahoi* ttiai IVckct wu nppoinled ChuMwUor in (hr vvrj W)(Snaii>g of Uil- reigD. 
W« havt. t(n;refQre, la- doulil that Mr. Fo**'* conjecture i* right, 

'./. *Vir juris ignarna, ot. <|a»d pndet dleerc. laicns cl ilttteraTus.' Ap. 
TVy^dcn, X. J=<Trip«>re«, wjl. 1841. 
pt llut-f^n W&ltvr waj. t<cyMid all doubt, brother of Tbcobald Walter, who e«i- 
Urd ti) Irrliimt.and foiindMl the Onnaoiie fumitv. Tbe conarxtoti of thai family 
ih Beck(>t ii lira disiiiiclly nude nut. We naitlon the aiatttrr chiH!y in urdtT to 
pomt eat that Cane ircmt lo \m mistskeQ in sapposing 'Thotnai; FitzTheobald. 
of UcUm.* who if saiit to tisvi; n»rn4Nl Bn^urt's liiitcr, to have laketi hii dfAitfoa- 
Uon fton s diHlriel called Ilvilly, in Tippcrary. (Prcf. to ' Lifo of the Duke uf 
Omnndr,* xii.) Por thtrc U la K«nt an an«iral chopelry named llrll<«, aaw 
oiiitvd to tb* parich uf Dar«iith ; aud bulb Dsrvnth and HtUw weft tbe property of 
tbe See of Caati^rKiry, until t-xdiun^i^ by IK-rtivrl Widu-f with Uw raoou of 
llocbcster for I^mltetfi. Tla-iloTd ' Ki-nt,' i. 247.-i5l ; ' Rymtr,' new ed,, i. 64. 

£ At p. ftSC the Uvan (avs that ' tlie preccdcul had beeu mi by tbe Emperor of 
Ovmiaiiy, Loibair II., iu 11.1.1,' mid ciles xhtt story uf u pielnre which WpWUDCsd 
l^>thair as doiug homage \o th« I'apc, and bore the InncnptioD— 
' \Ux Tirnlt ante fores, juraoK pnu* urbis hoDores 
Post, homo fit papw. tumit quo daatc corvnam.' 

Bsl. 



108 



Lives i»f tli& Arcklnsbops of CatUerbury. 



th 



wliat tncvmsistent with the dnrtrinps clscwliPre propoumlpd as 
tlte (lepeiulenre ni the Kn^lisli Cniurch on the Crown, notl \ 
iiideppndcncc «f Uip Papacy. 

Lutigton bad in his earlier years been eminent as a teacher 
Paris, and he was n vohiminnus author — bis chief woHt beii 
a Commentary un a hu-ge pitrtioii (if not thf- wliole) of tlie O 
Tcstanirnl. Dean Hook jjives reftrrciices lo librartL-s whci-e ao 
of bis writing are still prc&er\'ed ; and we mav add that 
Libruiy trl Canterbury Cathedral contains his * Morals ' on Josh 
Judp:es, Kutli, Samuel, Kings, Tobit, tisthcr, Kz^^ Macca 
isaiah, Jeremiah, lizekicl, and the lesser pnjphets." Lan^ 
works, huwfVLT, have never found an rxlitor, and u*e are not aw 
tlint an%' living man has taken the trouble tn ascertain whether 
('ommenTariescUfler in any apprp<ial>le dep^ree from ine<li»val co: 
mcntaries in general. The title, 'Moralia '(borrowed from G 
gory the Gieat, who g^ive this name to his Commentary on Jo 
seems to promise one of those vexatious and interminable expi 
tions in which the writer uses Scripture as a peg lo hang 
fancies on. witltout ap{>arently baring any idea that the sarre 
writers may probably have had a meaning of theirown. Steph 
Laiigton dipd in 1^28, having- supcrintrnded the tianslntion 
IJpcket's relies into a ma^nifitTnt sitrinf, and having mrounig' 
tlie introduction into l*!ngland of the Mendicant orders, whi 
were to pLay so large a part in the later history of the mifki 
ages, as the busiest agents and the surest instruments of t 
Papacy. The policy of Gregory Vil. ha<l achieve<l its higbi 
triumphs under Liutgton's contemporary. Innocent III. But 
attrmpting to carry it to«> far, tlwr successors of Innocmt rxci 
a formidable spirit of opposition ; and Dean Hook's next vola 
is Ut show the operation of i]iis spirit during ' the period 
reaction ' until t)ic Reformation. 

In taking leave of the author for the present, we must aj 
express our high sense of tlu- value of bis hook. We do 
think widi hitn in everything, and it would lie easy to jMnnt 
such misfcikcs as almost every one who comes later can usuall 



note in the work ot those who have gone before him.t 



But 
faeaitil 



Bui, beude* lliat ' Fnnlrrick I)KrLiaraKE& denied ihc le^lily of ibc set of hU \a 
dcn-Mor,' it would seem llint the picture and the motto misrcpresenltd \ 
hgniJi^, irhicb WM rvilly dope for the CountrM BlaiiWa'* inhtTiinnw ilwia 
Culbair uuder llie Roinaii »ec>, u if it bad brtm Anuv for Ihi- itnpcrul Cruirt^ i. 



■ de 

I t 

■ Gim-kTil.. ii. SI. 

■ * Cstaloguc. by th* K*r. H. J. Todd (afttTwards Archdcscoo of CicTrUed), 

■ Lnnd. isoa. p. 111. 

H t Wr oy^fil, p«rhapti, tn in«^tu>n that the I>trin in hit prefiioc ackaowledgct 

^^^ the aMtKtni->.vo1'ilit.- Itrv. W.S<nbb«,«utborof avery lueAil li»t of KugtUblnsbopo, 

^^H cotitlitd *K«gistnitn Sucr im An^ciicauniu.* Altbougfa Ihb geiiUi-num is anrortu- 



DSU 



Livet of the Archbislurpt of Canterbury. 



109 



li«trtil_v like Ills gmeral spirit, and wf> are sure that Deati Hook 
\iM bestowed on his Uisk much lovini; Inbour, with nn earnest 
deiiro to find out the truth, both as to facts and as to opinions. 
To the idler reaclcr, it will convev murh inlonuation in a vaxy 
pira&ant form ; to the student who is acquainted with severer 
works, of B wider rBiif^, it will sivc the means of fdlin;; up the 
outlines of Church-history with life atitl i-olour. It is well for us all 
t»i know something about thf prelates whose history Dr. Hook 
has written ; and for tnauy of us it is no sraall matter to knov 
wluit 50 cniiwnt a man as Dr. HiH>k tliinks of them. In the 
loijjt line of Augustine and his eighty-uine sucreswirs, tliere 
have been men of verv' various qualities ; some of tliciii noted 
as scholars, as theologians, or as statesmen ; while manv, who 
cannot be destribed as in any way distinguished, have filled the 
Primacy with credit to themselves and with advimloge to the 
Church. There have been archbishops saintly ami of no remark- 
able Muictity, proud and humble, rigid ami pliable, wholly hier- 
archical and almost wholly secular. And it can certainly not 
be said tliai the hitrheat qualities have always secured the most 
successful administration of the office. Under suth prinres as 
William Knfus and his hrolher, Jjinfmnc could no doubt have 
coDlrir«?<l to acquit himself of his duties at once towards the 
Church and towards the Crown Iffitti>r than the more jirofoundly 
^jMuned and thoughtful An«elm ; and in later times. Laud — able, 
^BBKrnc*), munificent, and conscientious as he was — was yet so far 
wanting in practical wiBiIum thai he bore a chief part in piu- 
voking the tem[M)rarv ruin of the Monarchy and of the national 
Church. In uiauv casL-s, an archbishop whose chief merit con- 
siftt«d in nothing more than a stately and dignified bearing, has 
scrred the Church mort! cfKpclually (lian itcoulil have bi*en served 
in the circumstnnres of his time by a man combining the highest 
gifts of elmiuence, learning, ami piety. As circumstances vary, 
so too fill the qualities whiih arc rei|uired To deal with them; 
aud that which, in one acre, is the most valuable of qualifi- 
cations, mav be quite unsuitetl for another, ^'t.■t, however this 
mar bo, it may be cerluiidy laid down that in such a position as 
the Primacy iif Englani), the man ought always to hold himself 
sulmrtlinate tu his office — that solid rather than dazzling qualities 
are rrquiretl, rmy. that brilliancy of any kind is even dangerous— 
tint any fondness for jiersonal disjdny (under whatever name it 

nate \a bein^ the tubjci-t tit rtrlaiu wrakty calo$:ks wfakh would do( be too litUe 
far au Cnhcr or n Mabilloii, v^- heliere turn to be n r»))r trnrurd qmI coe- 
ieiratiMia ntnlcal, IVom whom much ^ood tenriu may be <xpe<h-d. 

may 



Lives Iff the Arcfihishiij}s of Caaterhury. 

may be vcilcU) cannot tail to degrade tlic mnn and to dishonour 
faia function. 

' Among the archbinliops,' srjb Doou Hook, * tibere ai« a few emi- 
nent mlora distingniidiod as mnch for thoir tranacendent abilittea ai 
for their «xaItoct Htatioo in socie^ ; bat as a general mlo the/ have 
not boen mon of tlie bi|^uat oIaaa of miiicl. In all ngoa the teadenqr 
has vtiry pr<>|>orly betiu, whtethur by elecUou ur by uomination, to ftp- 
point " »ifc xaaa ;'' and a& guaiaa is genciuily mnoTotiug and ofkn 
euoentric, tlto eafu men arc thoso who, vith oertiuu hig]i qnalificatiuus, 
do Dot riw) mucb abuvo tbo tutellectual aTcmgo of tbeir ct.)uU.'m])o< 
lurics. They ore prnctioal muu mtbur thiin philtwophcnf aud tht-orists; 
and Uiuir iinpahw Is not to perfccUou but ^uie/« non m-Jtere. From 
IhtB Tcry circiUDStanwi th«ir history in tbo more inetnirtive, and, if 
few among tho archbishops hnvc Icfl th^ inipreaa of tbeir luind upon 
the age in which they lived, we may in their biography rettd the clia- 
raoler of the timet) which Ihuy fairly rvipreKont. In a laiasioDBry age 
we find them zoalnns bnt not cnthnsiastie ; on the revival of learning, 
whether in Auglo-ijaiontimesor in the fifteenth oentory, they were men 
of learning, although only a few havu been diKtiuguiehud an authora. 
When tho iniad of the laity van devoted to tho cnnip or the chase, and 
prelates were called to the administration of public affaiiv, they dis- 
played the ordiiuiry tact and diplomatic skiU of profo^ioual tttates- 
mDO, and the nu<>oaBary acuzaen of judgoH; at the Kef(irni»ttoti, inHtmd 
of being loaders, they were the cautious followcre of bolder spirits; 
at tbo cpiHih of Ao Rerolutioti tlicy wuro luiti-iTouobitcH ratht<r than 
WhigK ; in a latitndinnrian age they hnre been, if feeble a» governors, 
bright examples of C'hristian moduraticm and charity.' — (pp. 4(J-41.) 



I 



Art. IV.— 1. RegxtlatioRS for the Vohnteer Forty, 1861. 

2, Constitution rf Ptiismnce Milifat'tf de hi Franet et df tAnylc 
terre. LieuL-CoL Martin, 3""'^ Imp. Lancicrs. Sp^taieur 
Miiitaire. IfiBl. 

3. The Three Panics. Rirlinrd Cobden, Esq., M.P. 1862. 

FOUK years ago we were defcnreleu enough to satisfy ouf 
worst rncmics, and to alarni our most ronfidpnt friends, 
always excepting the author of 'The Three Panics,' who de»er\'e* 
in spite of bis good iiitfiitioiis to bu lOassetl with tlie former rather 
than with the latter. W'c were quite unprejxtred to meet any 
great Btlack which might bare been made upon us an a auddea 
outbrpak of war, while our tempting condition of initccurity rco- 
dcrei] Ufi thr more liable both to l>c involved in war, and to be 
the object of such an attuck. Of our long const-line, uo 'one 
lusailable part was safe during a temporary absencv uf our fleet. 
Our mercantile ports were at the mercy of any frigate that might 

elude 




The Voiunieerx ami National Defence. 



Ill 



elude our cniisfTS. Our ^tni dockjarda and arsenals ircrc mnre 
or l«!ss u|M>n to bomluinlint'iit liy st^a, as well oa to the more remote 
contiti^fncy of an assault b^ land. Our inetmpiilU itself was 
abamefully expoacd to nn enemy, if onvv. iIisnn(Rirkf>i1. Our 
re^lar anny of 60,000 men, nhich had many other plni^a of 
vitnl importance to protect, wns insufficient in atunbers for ita 
defence alone; and even when we nddcd to that army 100/.K)0 
imperfectly trained, or untrained, militia, with 14,000 pc^nsi'mers, 
and 14.00() yeomanry, we were unable to make up the number 
of sK)0,0'^K) which we mipht have had to encounter on our own 
soiL We felt our weakness, and our neighbours saw it We 
weTP pmperly subject to anxieties at home, and naturally so to 
tbrpats fmm nhniad, which it is easy now to laugh at or to ignore. 
Mr. (-'hIhIi-b wimhl fain pcrsiiadfi us that the sensations of inse- 
curity which we have at times experionred, and which he has 
divided into three special periods of panic, were altogether un- 
called for ; and that hecanse we did not actually encounter 
«ride-sprea<) desolation or sudden deslrurtirm at the teriniiiation 
of any of these peritids, we had not after all any ranee for alarm. 
On the same principle the careful man wliu insures Ills sliiji, bis 
house, or his life, is a reckless spemlthrift as long as his mer- 
chaiMlixe is safe, his house unhtimt, or his health good. 
Mr. Colnlen has ritlier not yet met witii, or not appreciated, the 
old French proverb, — 

' S'il fait beau, prenda ton numtOBU ; 
Quaud il pluut, fius oe que tu toux.' 

Nothing would have inducctl him to believe beforehand, that the 
States c^ North America would, in the year 18C2, U' overrun by 
a million of soldiers and overwhelmed by a hojieless debt. If a 
more far-seeing Government had, bv the adoption of wise mea- 
sates, by extensive |>reparations, and at an apparently extravagant 
cost, prevented civil war from breaking out among those States, 
he might easily prove now by similar rt-itsoning that its statesmen 
had done their best to bring ruin upon that united nation, and to 
cmsure the bn^-up of its pailern constitution. 

We knew, then, — for it had become a bye-word with us, — that 
Btcam faad*partially bridged the Channel ; bnt wo continued, witli 
intermittent feelings of uneasiness, to rely principally u]>on nn%-nl 
ptDtectinii until we realised the fact that a gallant and in]|H!rial 
ally was outstripping us in the proc-ess of converting a sailing 
into a steam fleet. 'Iliis touched us uu uur mtrat seitsitive point. 
The startling announcement rang through the land, that our first, 
our only prepBrL*d line of defence was endangered. Hctrcnch- 
ment and refonn ceased thenceforth to be popular. Savings were 

not 



^ 



* 



112 77(f VoluiUeen anil National Defence. 

not to be weighed against security, nor the ballot Bgainst bul 
walks. Batteries began to make their appearance oii tl»e coasts ; 
a llo^al Cumiiiission was appointett (on the lOtli August, 1859) 
to inquire into the * Present state, conditinn, niiil sufficiency of 
the For tificat tuns existing for llie Defence of the United 
Kiopdum ;' and the judgment of the nation has confirmed the 
obvious general conclusions which were containwl in the Report 
of that Commission, dated Fehruar>', I860 — tlint (.•ertain vital 
points and im|>ortant places ought to Ite renderetl serurp against 
any attack that could be made agairiRt them both by sea and 
land— that they shouUl be surrounded by land-forts suBiciently 
distant to secure them from the effects of rifled artillery, and 
prutect'i'd by- M-a-forts to act incombinatitm witli filiating bntterics, 
and ronipty with all the f-otiditioiis nf iniKlern warfare. 

But while it was seen thiil we WiUitttd fortifications much, it 
was felt also that we wanted soldiers more. It was not only that 
our troojM were insufficient to protect the public arsenals and 
dockyards without the addition of furtifications ; but we could 
not even sjiare from our fickUAHCe llie more limited number that 
would be re(]uired for their defence wiUi the aid of permanent 
works. The first construction of such works involved a heavy 
outlay, and the cost of maintaining them would be considerable ; 
but the augmentation of tlie regular army to anything like the 
numbers that were necessary to the security of the country was ^h 
out of the question. ^| 

Tlie difEeuUy was apparent, ami our countrymen proceeded to ^\ 
act upon the same principle in military aflairs. that they are ac- 
customed to apply to the concerns of ciril life. Thfy hpl|>pd 
themselves. Tney set to work to provide for their own dpfi-nce ^j 
in the same spirit in which they have established voluntary ^H 
institutions of a Hterarv', scientifir, artistic, and charitable nature ^^ 
— for their aged and their young, their rich antl their poor, their 
criminals and tlieir unfortunates. Uniforms npprnreil in the 
towns, bugles res<iundcd througli llie villages, Pi-ers and ple- 
beians put their heads together in ctmnri!, and their shoulders in 
the field. The heal men in the country devoted to the work 
wilting labour and valuable time. Those who were richer aided 
those who were jHMirer, and those who could not give leisure or 
physical strength, sent in their subscriiitinns. Balls and bazaars 
5weIIe<l the resources. TIic Government ac<:epted the movement ; ^M 
the Act 44 Geo. III., c. 54, was revived ; and a Volunteer Army ^| 
has been formed, which consisted in rounil numbers on the Ist 
August, 1861. of 23,170 Artillery, 2750 Kngincers, 600 Light 
Horse, 670 Mounted Rifles, and 133,^*00 Rifles, making a grand 
total of upwards of 161,000 men. Since that date, tlie Artillery 

have 




Tli€ VoJtxnicert ami National Defence. 



113 



liave IracreaseJ 3 per cent., the Enginei?i-s 5 per firnt., tlic Lijrtit 
Horse 11 per cent., and tlte Rifles a quarter per cent, while tlu; 
mDuntL'd Rifles have decreased near!)- 3 jwr cent. The total 
cnrollwl strpnjfth up to the Ist April ln«t wiis 1)J3,740 officer* 
and men, in 1351 coips, comprising 2200 troops, Uiltcrics, or 
companies. Of thesr only ont^-cjghth were non-effbetives ; aud 
out i)f the i-emaininj^ 14<),l)00, iihout 80,000 are highly efficient. 
The cfjst of this army, as provided in the Estimates for the 
present year, is 123,000/., divided into 6000/. for general Staff; 
07,000/. for Adjutants and expensra of Officers temporarily 
employed ; anil r>0,000/. for Jnstrurtirin. 

The estahlisbment of a \'oluiiteer force, in one form or aiuUhrr, 
had been desired for many years by civilians as well as by military 
men ; and imrtially sureessful attempts had previously been 
mwlr* to form isolated ciirps in different parts of the country. A 
great step was gained when the rifle came into general usi> in 
an improved form and at a low prict*. It was at once remem- 
bered that the great success of British soldiers in former centuries 
wu principally dac to tlieir unrivalled skill in the use of the 
bow, and it was foreseen tliat similar advantages might be gained 
by troitung the present generation to shoot with the rifle. A 
natuml wish gainetl ground to erect practice-butts, and to intro- 
duce ritlc>shoottng, like archery of old, as a national pa«time. 
It was hoped that the interest thus excited would aid in the 
formation of corps, and contribute to a strong defensive move- 
ment ; Init il was not foreseen, nor could any one have imagined, 
ihnt so large a pro[>ortion of the population would in a titnc of 
pe«ce convert themselves into drilleJ and discipline<l soldiers — 
that they would for a time abstain altogether, .is so many have 
done, from the more interesting- portions of their military duties, 
and would, month after montli, go patiently through die i-om- 
pomtive druilgery of drill, in spite of many obstacles, until lltpy 
bail attained to so hi^h a dcgroe of rfliciency. 'Ibis was a 
Strong test of the carnesmcss of the movement ; and the admirable 
vay io which it lias been undergone furnishes proof of no 
amoant of patriotic xeal wbiclt Mr. Cobden will find it difficult 
to qupncli, and M. Martin to disrredit 

Herein lies the great diRereuce between the Volunteen^ of the 
jinrsRut day and their predecessor* of 1588 and 1803. The 
former are assisting, while there is yet time, to place the country 
in security, in order to prevent the idea of a hostile invasion 
from being seriously entertained ; the latter assembled to oppose 
expeditions of great magnitude, |>omj>uualy organised, and 
avowedly dcstinni to that object 

Ai the commencement of the present century, when Napoleon 

Vol. 112.— TVb. 2W. I t\\sttiWxji^ 



jT/ie {-'olnnteera (nul National Df/enre. 



dittributrtd 150,000 men in six camps Hong die French (xnsl, 
and called them 'the Arm}- of EnglwHl,* double tlint number 
rose in arms on the T^inglisli side of tlicr Channel to' uppoK 
tlicm ; and the gcnciml fnflitig; which fxisU^l thruughout OnaU 
Britain nt tliat timr, ami which exists in still greatrr force al, 
thi- prtts4tnt tiuuf, cannot he more foEcibly de«cribetl than in the 
wonis which the late Sir Charles Pasley used in writing, in 
liiO?J, on the all-exciting subject of tlic Militar) Policy of the 
country : — 

' C-ortuinly, uf all the ttpectaolcB proBcutcd by hiatory in modorn 
nt)ni<, if n« havu thb good fortuno to sorviTe the pre«ent contest, 
be regonlud witli ^iritiitcr ailuiiratioD }>y eueevtiding ages tham tbi 
nuble uflurt exhibited in tbiH islaod, when, at the conuDonooment 
the present war, threatonod with a fomiidAbio invaaion which <mt\ 
onlinary iitilitaiy etitahUsluueuta went iuca|uihlu uf reetstuig, fot 
hiudred thonaond BritoDs Blarted at ouce from the various 
tiong of civil life, and Toltmtorilj took up oxam in duStaxao of 
conntry.' 

There is no doubt that half a million of men would now 
their services, and be ready to do their duty uj the best 
their jiower, against any foe or combination of foes that mi<;h 
threaten the country ; but it would be many months before anj 
of them could he made as efficient as the 1(>0,0()0 who fi 
our existing Volunteer arm v. M. Martin, imleef], cooaiden^ 
that ire must have sadly detcTiomted. After lirst alleging that 
the VoloDlccr movement of liij(13 was decried with fury by the 
majority of militarv men, and that the larg^ forces at the disposal 
of the British Oovpnimmt in that vear (whii^h he gives at 
S^sMO Militia, 34,1(>^ Kescrrc Corps,' and 474,6ii7 Voluniaan) 
existed bat on paper, he adds that, instead of 500,000, we cai 
now only raise 150,(>00 Volunteers, in spite of newspaper excitm 
ment and discouru-s pninouiirf^d * apr^s boire.' M. Mutia 
knnws, on the oiu> hand, tin- wi-nk {xiint of tld.s new annnmrm 
* with which we arv sevkinif to dazzle the eyes of Europe,' whi 
he denies that Continental nations are as much * stupified ' by ii 
as wc would wish to believe, and appears to consider that 
amount of time or lnly>ur will ever make the VoluntiKTs cificieoi. 
Mr. Cobden founds all his fallacies, on Uk other hand, upon 
following statement, which was made by tbe late Lord llardit 
to the Scbastopul Committee: 'Give us a good stout man, 
let tu have him for sixty days to train him, and he will be 
good a soldier as you can ha^'c' This would Im? u ver\- ('xtx*- 
ordinar)' statement if it were inlendtul to be taken iu the ex- 
tended sense in which Mr. Cobden has applied it ; and its 
conectness would not be admitted by army ofUcers geoenlly. 



I 

icni. 

tb^ 



TUp ybimUeers and Nativnal Defence* 



115 



tbonjz;fa men carefnlly tnuoetl during mch a period might, nu 
doubt, do good mttIcc in some casei if they were uiixeU up 
with oUlor gnldierg. But Mr. Cobdcn procetdB tu take it for 
g^ntrd Uiat gntMl queers are to he manuraclurci] in a somewhat 
smilar |M.'ri<Nl, that tli<> tnoml qualities nf(x>ssary to othcers sad 
uic'U are tu be tuijiarted to tbi*tii in like inaiiiipr, and that the 
organisation of the diflerent departments is to b** perfecti^d witli 
eqtnl facility ; and Ite cannot understand how, nnder these 
cimunstAnccs, any lutijrrr timp can Ik* wanted to turm an army 
than would necessarily elapse t)rtw«3i a cause of qaarrel aiu) n 
commencement of war. 

By way of demonstrating how tinreasonable our * panics ' hare 
been, be argmrs that we an? nut to consider the French as 'a !«ct 
of buccanicTS,' who will * t}m»w fifty tliousaiid men airnxs ihe 
Channel iu a single night,* aud that in any supposition of sudden 
attack we 'overleap all reliance upon our diploniary or uur 
fleets.' •Take away,* be says, * the liability to surprise, by 
mdmitting tlir necessity' of a pret-ious ground of quarrel ami the 
delays of n diplomatir correspomlcnce, and yon have time to 
(sollect ynnr flfwt, and drill an army.* 

We are strongly tempted to believe tliat be must have deri^vd 
these ideas fnmi a l*'reuch friend and skilful statE^sman ; but 
whether tliis be the case or no, we are sure that the friend in 
queuion will not now become acquainted with them for the first 
lime, and will long agu have (injoyrd a laugh over thi.-m at the 
rxpeniie (d his unsiisjiertini^ Kngh&hin.'Ui. 

Mr. CJubdtm alHinls us an amusing Insight into his commuiuca- 
tions with this friend, by reproducing an old story about Mr. 
Ewart. That sensible Member of Parliament ma<le an applica- 
taou tu M. Ducos, the French Minister of Marine, in 1KS3, on 
Uie nil^iM-t u( the French artnametits, and n*(;eivcd a reply which 
•ppeared in all the newsppfirs : hut Mr. Cobden now lays before 
us a drscri]itioti uf the questiuti ami a summai^' of the answer, at 
they are contained in a note from M. Ducos to a colleague. 
Mr. Cobdrrn 'had not the honour uf a persona! acquaintance with 
M. Ducos, but hapiwned Iu be un terms of very intimate frieiulship 
with oue of his colleagues, with whom he was in corrcspoiKlence 
at the itime, and from whom he received the following note, 
which had been written to him by the Minister of Marine, at the 
mnmeut of receiving the letter of inquiry from Mr. Ewaru' \Ve 
will not qoote the whole of this note, but we will give tlie pith 
of it in the following extracts : — 

• Ur. Ewan utin me in oonfidenoe, and whurnering in mj ear, if wo 
aro Bottutod by sentiniCDts of rivalry in piwhuig otu armoaicntB I I 
doclaru thai I camiut naderstand It. Wo have uot armed ooo veasd, 

i2 




The Voiuiiteers and HationtU Defence. 

no Imvc bot touchoci onu gnn, vio have not eqiuppod one soldier^ uro 
have not remiitcd fine cnbin-lmy ; and tiioy ask us Beriaualy if wo 
ait: a very thiuidcrbolt of war '/.... Ah I my dear cnUcaguc, yon 
Bce tliftt rdl tko geese do not coiuu from ttio Cnitcd States or Bwiin in 
thc! Heine. You perwjivc that the (jncstiou from London maikm 
(jaito morry.' 

Mr. Cobtlcn is innocently astonished even now in mrcmbcr- 
ing tliat *this excellent atU'inpt to ul lay thc public excitement 
produced no npparpnl eJTect.' But, verily, good intention^ and 
an anxious desire fur th(! welfare of mankind, do sometimes lead 
our countrymen to commii the mnst egregious absurfJities. Tlui 
was worse than Mr. Pease's visit to St. Petersburg U) convert the 
Emperor Nicholas tii n peace policy during thc Russian war. 
Imaginr a l"rem;h Irgislalur writing to the Duke of Somerset, to 
nbtnin information as to our uwn idjjiTU in fortifving Pnrt»- 
moutb. In the mcaii time, as Mr. Cubden has considered, tlus 
anecdote to afTord good evidence in support of his opinions, and 
has thought it worthy to be reproduced in his pamphlet, it if 
plain that he lias never sewn through M. Oucos' joke. He still 
Wlicves, no doubt, that du* geese are thnsi* wh(» would pn?vriit 
war by being prepared for it; while the wise would, in the 
opinion of Uic witty French Minister, as welt as in bis own, 
postpone their pre{Hiratioas until the danger is upon them, cackle 
in tlie mean time in fanciwl security, and hiss nt all others, whi>, 
dillertng fmm tbeni in opinion, prefer to adopt inrasuirs Itn* 
ensuring safety. 

But the opinions in this respect which Mr. Cob<ten puts for- 
ward, and the reasoning by which he endeavours to sup|Mitt 
them, are deprived in part of the mischievous tendency that they 
would otherwise possess by being so peculiarly ill-timed. Our 
gallant neighbours on the Continent have thirty-seven* iron-plated 
ressels built or buihUng to our twenty-five; whereas we ougbt (o 
have fifty-five to tlieir tliirty-seven ; and the alleged superioritv of 
some of our ships <)ocs notgt^ far tocom{>eiisate for this iM'ndusde-j 
ficienry in numbers. Being still Ijelow the standard at which tlicf 
aira, and what tliey call their ordinary establishment, they would 
continue to tell as, no doubt, with M. Ducos, that ihoy liave no: 



* Thmt DUnben, stfonl wliieh thrrv has been of late some dUpotp, are Am 
made up;— Th« French bnvc a irou-pIat4^ frignlt* nfoal, am) 10 btiiliUttg; 19 
iron'pUted Aomiing l>flttori«s xflont. and S IjuiMiDH ; and tliey have couiavnetd M 
hnild 7 moTv of the litter at Uordeaux and >'ame£. Mr. ('atxlea deairea thai ' 
skotiM aminf 
propoaitiou 
until we ha _ 

advance! of themr We imagiut: that fvi-u Mr. Cobdcn or ^Ir. Kwan woald 



noaiiDg^ onitrnes anoni, ana x rjuiiiiiiip ; ami luey nave couiavneoi W 
n of the litter at Uordeaux and >'ame£. Mr. ('atxlea deairea thaiwa^^^ 
inee with them for a mutual reduulion of naval armamenta. The only ^H 
. that we cotild now make is that tbcy ^oiild tiupcad their opcimtiofiS^I 
ive causlit Ihmi un. pi»ed ihvm. mad atbuoed our Draiicr txt&iiion xm ^1 



until «e have cauglit ihmi ugi, pi»ed ihvm, and stbuovd our proper po&iinm ii 
adnnctf of then. We imagiut: that fvi-u Mr. Cobdcn or >Ir. K 
beiiute b«f4r« lh«y anetnpled to iicgociait' stirh an unuiKenMnt. 



ef|uipp«l 




Ute VoJuttteen and Nufional Defence. 



117 



I 



I 



I 



ippcti one little boat, or recniiteil one t-abin. bov. They have 
a rL'irular nrmy of 40ii,(WX) men under arms, besides a reserve 
203,000 liublc til lie (Tillc^i nut in two or three weeks, ami a 
ualiooal ^ruard of 205,Ol~M), nmkiii^ a total nvnitahle foree of 
877,000 men ; an a*jain*t a regular army of not much more thaa 
90,000 in this countrt", l)cside«,— say 80,000 militia, and 1GO,000 
Toiuntccrs ; nnd nc cannot anyhow make up a total of 400,000 
men. A mon> reflecting ami observant statesman wutUrl have 
abstained, at sueh a moment at anv rate, from rceoin mending a 
policy of procmstlnatlon in defending the heart of a mighty 
emptrc. It is not so long since the army of France, while »till 
otx a peace footinj;^, crossed the Alps, with its Emperor at iu 
heiulf and drove the Austrians, who were supposed to be fully 
prepared for war, out of Lombardy in n few weeks. The ques- 
tion of the 'Trent,' too, would have led only the other day to 
itamediaie'w.ir with the Northern States of Amerlra, if they had 
pervixttrd in their refusal to give up the Southern Commissioners 
whom ihry tiwk from that vessel ; and »ve escaped from that war 
unly by siiowing tliat we were strong' and ready. A Euru|>ean 
trar mi^ht bi- smldenly forced upon us in like manner at any 
future lime, without tiur obtaining a single month for the com- 
pletion of our military arranjjements ; and Mr. Colxlen would 
hanlly, we suppose, consider tbiit this was a suflifient interval for 
full prepamtion, though he (ioi-s not ^ive us any precise estimate 
of the Irujjth of time that ought in his opinion to be allowed in 
SDch cases for diplomatic correspondence. VVitli these recent 
aiaeg before us, we need hardly go back for further illustration to 
the practice of the first Napoleon, who, when he <lclermincd 
upon striking a blow, was not usually in the habit, any more 
ihan other great coinmunders, of giving any unnecessary leisure 
ftir prrparatinn to those on whom it was destined to take cdbct. 
But we cannot help being reminded of tliat celebrated occasion 
on which, while preparations for embarkation were kept up ot 
Boulogne with redouhlwl activity, and the 'army of England ' was 
hourly eipecting to go on Ixmrd, the whole force was suddenly 
pnt in motion for the Rhine, and was far advanced <m its march 
towanls ihnt river before it was known cither in London or Vienna 
that the camp on tlie coast had been broken up. A total number 
of 271,OllO men were marching fnim different directions to effect 
the i>l>jert in viiMv ; nnd judicious combinations pnidueetl the 
Dsual rrsult. After a ramjuign of fifteen ilays, and witli a loss 
«f HOtXl men, }<ll,000 of the enemy had Ireon taken or destroyed. 
■ On the subject of preparation, the few pages tlmt foMnw the 
B quotation aJMivc ^iven froui llic * .Mililar\ Policy' arc well 
I worthy 



I 

» 
i 



118 



The Volunteers ami National Defence* 



wortbv of pcmsa), and the folluwing cjctract from tbem a0<irdf 
nn appropriate answer to Mr. CulHit'ii's nuiin argumfut: — 

* Wo uiuy fintl tlint brnvc, wull-orgimistxl, weU-diBcipIinocI nnnlai^ 
that strong Euid well-pruviiltxl fortremcs, cannot spriug ap <dJ at onoo 
like Uw work of magic hccanse a free penplo wills it should be m, 
beoanae a people vbo feoln the n^unt of tbcm too lato, whn {nel» bto 
late that w^ont thorn the existence of the couuti7 haDgs t>y a tfaroad, 
has bD«a Ble«piug in security in the idlo belief that a natioD of froe- 
men, animated n-ith n geiiotml dutorminatton to renst a fiiniign y<dB^ 
can never be fiubdnvd. 

' This ii>ft«int, wliivh men so trimnpLantl}' apply to the provpocta of 
this coiintiy, i^ rma nf LhtiHo pnijiidicf« nhicn ik contradicted by the 
testimony of all hint^jry, bnt which, ae it ilatleni our conifurta, oar 
indolence, and our nationnl pride, has been too generally rocoivod 
by UH, luul may do us iulinitc mi^hiof.' 

But none can no^ give &lr. Cobden a better idea of the txin^ 
-ind troul)le which must be devoted to the formation of an efSi- 
cicnt army than tin* Voliintpprs themselves. They will provn 
to him thnt he is guilty of simph> absurtlity when lir speaks 
(if 'drillini; an army' as he woultl of preparing- a speech, or 
writing a pamphlet, or mokiiij^ judicious armnf^ements for a 
ragged •school picnic, or for the annual meeting of a scientific 
association — all of which require, hy-tbe-bye, an amount of r»ie 
ami forethought wliich those who have mtt undertaken them ars 
not aware nf M, Martin al6<i will enlighten him furtlier as to 
the n^sult nf employing undisciplined forces and raw troa|ML 
That oOicer has * looked through all the campaigns in which 
Volunteers have been employed,' has raked together a number of 
cases in which inferior troops have misl>ehaved themst-lves, ancl 
has paraded them before his readers, to sliow how little de|ienp 
dencv is to be placed upon our Volunteers : forgettiog all the 
time, or not knowing, pcrlinps, how much trouble thoie Volun- 
teers have taken, by drilling in small bodies, mnrKcuvring in 
large brjdies, and submitting to discipline when under arms and 
on duty, to acquire mLlita.ry pnificiency, 

M. Martin, indeed, arrives under this misapprehension at n. 
conclusioQ which is atiU more satisfactory to him. The Uriiixh 
Volunteers must, he conceives, inevitably turn out a failure, 
because the Vtilunteers of all other countries— <»f France. Spain, 
America— luive failed liefnn- them. In pniof of this piisitinn he 
refeis to the lO.iHK) rn-uciimen «ho fled, tmder numouriez, 
before 15(K> Prussian hussars in 171^2; and the 2()(K) Spanish 
cavalry who ran away fn»m the battle of Talavera, although, 
accnrtling to the Duke nf Wellington, 'they were neither attacktxl 



I 



I 



37m Voltuitearn anil Ntitiotutl D(^'9aet* 



119 



nor tfareatrnnl,' bat ^ frightoned only by the noise of iheir owa 
firp.' He jHtiiits out that Wastiiiigtoii, in 1775, and McDowell, 
in 18(U, were suhjectMl to tho same di soil vantages of whole rc^i- 
mi^QLs loavin^ their colours on the eve of Ixtttle. He aascrtit that 
II irrofrular troops, 'Volunteers or otliers,* h»ve constfiutU exhi- 
Htfxi the same qaalificalioiis — want of iroiwtancy, excess, cruelty, 
piilnffp — fmm which their countrymen suffereU more than tlirir 
enfintca. Dumoiirif^z's snhliers were hrignntls and nssacsins, and 
odMr French soldiers ' e^or/^caien/.' the unhappy DHton for eo- 
dravoaring to retain thnm <m tho field of bnttl<>. Stmc Spnnisb 
soldiers massacred General Saint Jean at Ciommo Sierra, and 
fiutened his corpse to n tree. The American soldiers killed their 
officient, and t]iri-atciii-<1 fiemrral Wayne ' de le coufjcr en viorcamz,^ 
Swiss guld.ers .issassiitaltHl tlie fieiieral-in-Chief d'lCrlach, 
fter the aflair of I'Vanhrannen. * All these soldiera belonged to 
tnwps badly disciplined, to irregular militia — in fine, lu Voluo- 
tewB. "ijTKt nenfuntjanuiis d'aiUrvg." ' I 

These iiistniicrx, niul i^thers whirh might he lulded to them, 
nlTufd, no doubt, tiiterestiog examples of tlie uiipleawiut posiiiuiis 
in which comniiinding officers may occasiniially fuid themselves,, 
and more particularly when they have Krench troops to deal 
with. The troops of chat nation, regular ami irregular, have 
pxhibibiHl the qualifications which M. Martin would especially 
ascribe La Volunti-ers over the whole continent of Euro|>p, and 
have at times desired nuthing so much, since lriI5, as an oppor- 
tunity of irxlulgltig then) in this amntry. We cannot but 
Rrmeniber that the inJiabitants of t3ie south of Fmnce, when 
Wellington entered that countrj* from Spain, found more profit 
and prtitcclion from their enemies than finm their friends in 
arms. The Irish patriots would not, if they read histury on 
these subjects, ha so anxious as they sometimes aifect to be for 
French iissiitance, in spite of all their wrongs. Wc must say, 
however, that we do not uurselves anlici|>atc luiy very shocking 
iate for the commaiidprs of IViiish V^)lunt(■ers. We nmy feel 
suie that there has Ikh-u no ide-a of miytiiing of the sort hitherto, 
or else we should uot have heard of such a dispute as that which 
occmriMi with regard to the command at the late rvview at 
Brightiin. We do mit suppose that it would occur to our 
Volunteer Rifles, or tu our Volunteer Artillery, or even t^i Colonel 
Rower and the huiiling -^'ntlemen in his admirably organised 
corps of Light Horse, if half the Continent were to invade th<* 
coontry. cither to sacrifice Lord Clyde, ortocut CotoucI MrMunlo 
into morsels, or to tie Lortl Kanclogh's corps*- to a tree. If tlie 
Voluntcrrs are ever called out for active servjce^-uf which tlicre 
is nu fear as long as thev are numerous and efficient — we believe 

that 




thai they will be fvontt to be * brigamls and nssnssins * bj? their 
C'iii!inips imly, Wv rxpcit tbL-m to ri'iniiiii with tlieir tulours OD 
the 4;v(- u( a bntlh; ; aiitl we gl\ l> M. Martin full warning thflt, if 
evi-r it faUs to hh lot to charge 10,000 of them with 1500 of 
his * Landers,' he will not find them in any huiTV to run nway. 
We agree with him when he says that the reviews at * Wibletlom 
(sic) and I3rightrin will dewive no one as to their effieicney ' — a 
subjetl oil wlilth we shall have a. few words to say presently—— 
but we do not think he is just in conittarlng our Vtilunleen 
cither with the haSf-starveil, ragged pfitriots of Dumouricz. or 
with the French National Guard, of whom General Geneau 
wrote in such disparaging terms, when he reporteil that he should 
require 10,000 regular troops without, ami 50,000 with them, to 
defend Lyons. 

We would, however, remind M. Martin of Watttguiei and 
thft»e other victories which the genius of Camot nchirveil after 
the defection of Dumouriez, witli volunteer iHHjps, shoeless and 
hungry, resjionding to the cry, ' In {mtrie est en danger.' It was, 
as Napoleon said, * Ic plus beau fait d'armcs de la Kevnlution,* 
that was thus performed at Wattignies; and in further reply to 
his histuriral assertions, vtc will quote from Lord Macnulay's 
epitome of tlic arguniriits diat wen< useil in 1097 agiiinst the 
maintenance of a standing army in this country : — 

' Some people, tudcod, tidkvd as if a luilitia could achiero nothing 
great. But tbnt linBo riootrino svas rofnted liy nil nticient and raodarn 
history. Whnt wa« the Lacx^demouiau phalanx in tho liest day« of 
Lncedemou $ What wm thu Itoman Legion in the best daja of Home ? 
What wnrn thii nnninH thnt conqtierod at ( 'rcs»y, at Poii^iors, at .\^n- 
conrt, at Halirlon, or at Flodclcn V What wan that iniglity nrrajr 
which Elizabeth roviowod at Tilbury ?• lu thu 14th, loth, and IG^ 
ccntiune^ En^liKhaion wliu diil not live by thn tnuln of wur had niodg 
war with FuccoR.'* and glory. Wore the Englisli of the 17th century 
so degenerate that they cutUd not be trusted to play the men for their 
own homi:fiteadfi and paritili ehurchesV 

It is precisely lurcause wv. are of the same mind with M. Atartin 

* Wc haw now learned from Mr, Motlej'd mvarcltn to ««tiaiatetnoracon«otl]r 
ibc wortli of tliat ann/. ' TIk-ic wi-rr,' hiu wys (Ibstorj uf tJic United >'«iher- 
liind*. vol, ii. p. 015 et wq), ■ patrioiiim, lojrnh}-, coonifrc. awl t^thasium in 
abuatUncc ;' Wl ' (here wen- co lorlre»&cs. no regular nriuy, du populaliuu traioMt 

hody-giiam of the Queen— and l^iivttcr, wflh 40i'0 men, iinprnvMcil wiik « 
barnrl of WiT or a loaf of br«id, was about comnvncinK )iiti cnitijiictied c^iiip nt Til- 
bury. (>D the tjth of August ihff Artuaiia vug iu Calais Kuads esitecting XlexuuAtr 
Farnoae lo lead Iiis ImoM tipon l.o«don.' GomI fortune mut galUst nllnff uvcd 
u> firoin ibti cabniilT ; out the nnditciplined inr>b wbicli wu aiHinblrd under aa 
inooiiipctciit couiijiauder ou ahorv muiiH liavc done litUo to arert it; nod ki* ban 
in this ra%p a snlSdeiit proof of thi-dtffictilt)' of improrisin^ananiiy in an inirml 
of 'diplomatic corrCTpoailencc.' 



I 




Tiie Vohiuteers aud Natwmil Defence. 



181 



in preferring wcll-disciplincd troops, that wc differ »o materiallv 
from Mr. C^jlxleii. Our gtuxi friends MM. Ducus and Martin 
would not (ii" h_v any chance thev should become our enemies) 
desire to see us in a worse plight than that in which he would 
place us — of vainly emlearouring to extemporise nn nrmy while 
tiic Forcifrn Secretary tor the time being eiertetl himself" by 
diplomatic scheming to play the part of a fortress, and gain 
rime ; in anxious fr.ir lest his devices might not have the desired 
rtrecl, anil witli the full Itntiwh^K^ that his utmiMt effbrts must 
have but an indifferent result. But, In truth, there are stronger 
grouods now for turning a deaf car to this male syren, and 
a\oiding his prfK-rastin.ition-plan. Improved weapons have 
made tlie art of war mare difficult of acquirement and more 
scientific than it was Ix-fore. Kifled niiiRki-ts and elun^tnl 
buUcta are uiieless in the lianils of nny but rari-fully trained men, 
VVell-eouipped troops are more p«>werful tlian ever against the 
rftw Ici'ies and half-armed mobs which Mr. Cobden would place 
at uur disposal, and which M. Martin app'urs to fenr mure as 
friends than t«i despise as enemies. Success will very much 
depmd in future wiirfare upon c(k)1 firin;?, accurate aim, well- 
judged distances, abilitv to adapt movements to the nature of 
the ^ound, and fearless exposure or careful concealment at the 
proper moment. Longer periods will be rc({uiFed for the training 
of trtmps ami the umuufacturc of armies. If Mr. C^ibden will 
(^fli^ct an arrangement with all our possible enemies, and {larticu- 
hirly with those in Europe and America, by virtae of which vre 
shall be ensured a minimum of tweire months for preparation 
before being called upon to engage in war or to defend ourselves 
from aggression, then wc will heartily acquiesce with him in the 
propriety of reducing our army^ disbanding our V'nlunleers, and 
cMttingdown onr military and naval exiwnsesto a happier figure. 
Until he is able to do this we must continue to congratulate 
ourselves upon the fact that, with the jirogrcss winch our V'olun- 
teers and our forti6cations are making, we are approaching nearer 
to the condition of the ' stniug man armed' who 'keepeth Iiis 
goods in peace.* 

We mention those two— the Volunteers and the fortifications- 
together, because there is, in fact, a virry strong natural connec- 
tion between them. The forts and other works which arc In-ing 
enlar^fMl or constru<-ted would be useless without garriBons, just 
nstlu- numlMT of triKips that would be sufficient to garrison those 
works would be unable to defend tlie same jjositions without the 
assistance of fortifications. If it should so happen at any future 
CLinc that there are no Volunteers, or an insufficient number of 
V^nluniccrs, to man them, it would be neeessarv to ora^nize some 

oih?r 



Tlie Vobtjiteerg and Natmml 



other force for that cspiMnal |mr]HMt>. Such » force wouUl ncce*- 
s.-u-ilv he mnre iipcnsivf, axid mlgbl hu Ipss (-(Ticient ; anil it 
would not tUt:n'fDrL* bt! Ilkeljf to tnei-t wilb Mr. Cobdoo's apprnvaJ 
any more than the Volunteers tlif^maelveg. The magnitude of 
the forces which are required for the defence of a military 
position de]>cn<ls upon Its natuml ad%'antn^e», and U))on the time 
and Inl«>ur that have bet-a judiciousljy bestnwfd ujmhi its pnrpa- 
ration. The more completely it is fortififd, the sioaller is the 
number of troops required for its defence, and the more safely 
may it be intrusted to partially trained men. Continaoos pcr- 
mantmt works, with ciladelt at inlervnls, and advanced works in 
front of them, form the most perfect fortifications, and may be 
defended with the least difliculty ; nnd detached forts connected 
by intrenchinenu of a U',mp4trary cliaracter demand larger 
garrisons. Unconnected detached forts provide a seciire retreat 
for a beaten army, enable it to rcLTuit its strength before resuming 
the oHensivp, .ind are good auxiliaries to an inferior army 
intn-nched behind them ; antl detached field-works or other field 
intrenchraents are of j^rcat service, when they can be rapidly 
thrown up, for securing a position by means of troops ini'erior in 
numlter nr tminin|; against an advanrtngVnemv. 

The introduirtion of the rillf iutu common use has verr much 
incraaaMl tlie inii»irt;Lni-e of all works of forttftc.ition. !t will lie 
a hopeless matter in future to assault judii-i<msly constructed 
works, even of weak profile, by daylight. With a level space, 
or a gentle slope, devoid of cover, in front ol such works, and 
tnined riRcmcn behind tliem, they will be unassailable while an 
tmrmy can be seen advancing ujion them ; but the relative advan- 
tages on tli^ side of the attack or llie defence during hours oi 
darkness are comparatively unaltered. The rangt? of H(»00 yards 
may be assumed as that from which a bombardment may now 
bo effected ; and in MYler to protect any place from tbc fire of 
modem artlllerj', a circuit of something like thirty miles requires 
to be inclndetl and held, when hills do not intervene, against a 
rty^larly orcrmized attack. Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight 
properly fortified will be far more secure with a garrison of 
20,orM) m€Ti than they would be if they were «nfortifie<l with 
60,()()0 ; and by this example the importance of combining' the 
Volunteers and the fortifications will at cmce be partly realized. 

It will also be seen that the more edirient and numerous the 
Volunteers become, the leas do we need fortifications or works of 
any deseriplicin, except such as may be thrown up at a time of 
expecti-d alliK'k ; and' it is further spjMirent that the important 
question, as U» whether it will Imi desirabl(-> ut prepare aiiv per- 
manent works for the defence of the metrojMilis, must depend 

very 



Tfitt Volunteer» and NatiataJ Defence. 



ISS 



very much upon ronsiderations of this nature. If wc could coant 
upon alwavs having a suflitdf-ntuiimber of effective Volunteers to 
(lefeuil It, in cumbiaation with Hie n'ipilnr army sind militia, 
without fortificatinns, iuul to secure all othrr iinpnrmnt points at 
tike same timr, such works would clearly itot lie requin-d; Iiut 
the more tbc combined lorries available are below tbat &tamL-in], 
tlw:* mon.' are they necessary to its security. It would be under 
tlieir support only tluit a ^ood defence coul<I in that rase be 
oondurt(-d, W means of troops Co be more hastily musten-d, and 
additional works of a. tenip«>rary cbaracler to be tlimwn up as 
they were required. 

ThfTO is a tendency with monv to look at tlie morempnt from 
t*wi narrow a j>oint of view. They argue thus: — The Voliinteera 
win only be useful to resist invasion ; the French are the unljr 
people who can invade us ; and their only function, tbcrcfore, ii 
to secure ns against French invasion. UeflecUng people sea 
higher objects to be ^ncd by it, and "greater advantaj;es to be 
dcrivei! from it. Reside'* alTonling mural training of a most import- 
ant rhararter to all classes — fanil not least to the sliopmcn whom 
Punch lias lately erased toipnz) — .'ls well iisa mngnifirent example 
of the pntriotic feelinp which pervades the country, tlie spontaneous 
rstsblishment of such a force lias a better effect than an augmen- 
tation of the re^lar army. Tbc nno induces confidence in us ; 
the other wuold natumlly mx-asion distrust towards us. In time 
of prare, the Volunteers will do much to jmitce:t us from in.sult 
axiu provocation, to which we must always l)e more subject in a 
condition of weakness, and which are very likely to lead to war. 
In time of M'ar, besides being n source of actual strength, they 
will br a nucleus rotirKl which greater numlwrs will collect to 
place tlie country in a condition of actual sccuritv. This will 
UbrTate our fleets for other duties tl«n that of merely guanting 
oar coasts, aud thus be the indirect means of protection to our 
colonies aud our commerce; and it will enable larger bodies of 
regular troop!!:, as well ns a fpx*ater numt>er of vessels of war, to 
he employed upon any foreign expeditions that may become ne- 
eesary. 

A» far at we can judge firom the experience thnt has been 
gained up to the present time, the tendency of modem improrc- 
nients is to mnke wars more sudden, more blooilv, and more 
cnstiv, but to shorten I heirilii ration. Impnived nn^ns of transmit- 
ting iuU'liigence ami pniviilinp transport, more perfect we.ipuns, 
atroDger maleriAls of defence, and the very necessity that exists 
for a better state of preparation, will all contribute towards such 
peaoJts. The British nati'«i Ims leamt in practice the inexpediency 
of frittenng away its resources apon petty expeditions, undertaken 

with 



I 



The Volunteers and National Defence. 

witb inadequate fcirces, or ill-foumi, or bailly organised. It has 
proved the ailvanta^e of he'mg able to jnit forth its strength, ami 
to strike heary blows, in the early part of nny struggle in which 
it has the misfortune to be engRgt*d. 

The dilTerent duties uf tlic Volunteers must obviously be clas- 
sified under four difii-rcnt heads, comprising the Defence of — 1. 
The Coast: 2. The Commercial Ports; 3. The ' Vital Point*;' 
4. The Metropolis. We shall consider these in due order. 

The most exposed portion of ihc coast of Great Britain, which 
lies between the Homhei- and Penzance, is 750 miles long, and 
conlaiiis altogether about 300 miles on which a landing might be 
effected. The total distance between tlie Tliames and the Tnmar, 
over which the most careful ]>rotection against invasion by large 
iKidies is re<iuire<l, is nlxiut 350 mites, and the whole a5tsnilnble 
coast-line niiiy be taken in theaggrrgnteat 16(M^ miles, A landing 
might be attcmptfKl, cither by small forces un ditTerenC parts of 
the gi'eater distance for purposes merely of plunder or destruction ; 
or on the shorter distance, in the neighbourhood of certain im- 
portant places, with objects of a more serious ehanic:ter. It is 
f>[|a»1lv iinpi>ss!btr to ftntifv in a permanent maimer all the landing 
places of whifli an enemy In force uiiglit avail himself, and to 
provide for their all being defended by regular troops ; and it is 
still less possible to protect the whole coast from insult by such 
means. It must be remembered that any assailable part of U 
may Ijc atlackc^l in time of war, in moderate wrnthr-r, withuat 
[ircvinus nolici? being given ; and that tlie state «if the atmosphere 
olone would determine the distance at wliich tlie enemy could be 
seen as he approached the coast. 

Our systems of telegraphs and railways arc already far ad- 
vanced towards perfection, aiuT arc being continually improred. 
for defensive purposes. Information might be afforded of any 
threntene«l attack, instructions forwarded for the transmission of 
trof>]>s. and arrangements made for their transport, all within a 
com)xin\ll%eiy short ]>eri«Hl ; and, if desirable, an alteration in 
their destination might be effected while they were on their jour* 
ney, by telegraphing to an intermediate station. Rut some 
time would necessarily elapse before troops at any distance from 
a threatened point could receive their instructions, and there 
would then be much to be done before they could be ready for 
service on the M»ast, After assembling in marching order, they 
wnnid have In proceed to the railway, to emltark on it, to travel 
by it U> the vicinity of the |><>int attacked, tti disembark from the 
railway vehicles, and finally to march a greater or Icim distance 
to the shore, according to the position in which their presence 
was required. All this woidd take up more time than would lie 

occupied 



« 




The Voliudeer^ ami Naiwnai Defence, 



125 






i>ccupied by the enemy in throwing' a portion of his troops on 
shore, nnil securing n position for covering tlie discmharkntion of 
the remalndpr. The most favourable raoment for upposiing the 
landing would be lost, and the enemy would avoid dnnjj^er while 
carrying on the most peritous proceediof; connected with his ck- 
peUition. 

' ihit,' says Mr. CoIhIc-h, ' jf you art* uimblc to drill ou annj 
while tlie dipKiitiatists lire iii (-orn?spimi)ei)ri>, where is your navv ? 
You have time to collect your llect before war is Bctually de- 
clared, or at all events before a hostile force orrises off your 
cocuUl* Captain Cowper Coles, too, would invest 6,000,00<W. in 
SO cuptiln shifw, and would Iuiv<- tfaein ready to aet in nid of that 
fleet, 'riiough he appnivc^s uf the Volunteers, he would do nwny 
with works of fortification, and rely upon bis coobl-flotilln, aa 
being the bfst defence alike for our coasts, our dockvardit, and 
all our ports. But there is, unfortunately, one difliculty which 
prevents us from ag:reeing either with CupUiin Coles or Mr. Cob- 
dea ; and it is a very serious one. We cannot be sure that either 
Channel fleet or our flotilla of cupoLt-ships (when we get them) 
ill ever \)e In the rij^ht jilace at the moment of danger. Indeed, 
wr may almost take it for jirrantcd that they will be in the WTon<^ 
place, because, as M. Ducos says, *h11 the geese do not swim on 
the Seine ;' and it would, of course, be an important part uf n 
French scheme of invasion to provide that any expedition sent 
forth to effect a landing on our Khores should keep as far as pos- 
sible from our Channel fleets. They would cither draw off our 
fleet by a feint, or they would embrace an opportunity of its 
beini; at a distance from the scene of intended attack ; and more- 
over, if wc aret^i ilepeiid ujKin our fleets for protei-ttiin, we ran not 
afl<nxl tu neglect a feluL, beiause it might, u|><in being itegleeted, 
be uimed into an eflective expedition. It would take the Itritish 
fleet more tlian thirty hours to gel from Plym<HUli to Sheeniess, 
at twelve knots an hour; and mure than fuiirtfcn and sixteen 
hours from Plymoutli tu l*orts mouth, and SheeniebS tu Ports- 
mouth, resjiectively, at the same mte of steaming. If the French 
attempted to land at seven or eight o'clock on any particular 
moniiDg in the neighbourhood of tlie Downs, and if our fleet had 
Iiecn lelegraphetl for from Portland two hours ple^iouslv, that 
fleet^would, provided all went well, reach the place nf ilisem- 
tMikalion in the middle nf the next night, in time to team tlint 
the French had completed their operations some hours before, 
and that their vessels bad disjKTsed. 

It isquitctnicthatasmaU number of 'iron-sides ' would, if they 
LiMtId lie let loose amongst n fleet of transports and landing-boals, 
and ])ermitted to destroy them without intemiption, be an excel- 
lent 



The Volunteers and Katitmal Defence. 



lent moans «f dc-frarc^ uihI «ufliri(;nl to beat nff die cncniT, mm) 
that evt-n one stenm-min woulti be in the mulat of them like a 
wolf among so many ibeep. But the French have vessels of 
thii descriptiun as wdl as ourselves, ami in greater numben; 
and lliev wouM lake fpxMl care, unless the\' were like M. Ducas' 
geese again, that there should he with their fleet o( trausijiurtB 
more llian one ' La Gloire ' for every * Defence ' or * Resislanec* 
that we could brin^ acraitist them. It would be well for m^ 
iDdccd, if the British commanilers, roming from diftcreot dis- 
tances, arriving at diffeFem times, and anxious ui 6gbt at snr 
odds, were not crushed in detail on their wav to the appointed 
rendezvous on such an occasion hv the squadrons, already tn 
junction, which would be employed bj the French fur thai 
purpose. 

The assailant of a lung c<jast-1ine must a)wav9 have grott 
advantages over its defenilers, and imrlirnlarlv so when lie has a 
powerful fleet, convenient jilaces of f.-mbarkatiDii, suBicicnt mcaiv 
of transport, plenty of troops, and good boats for landiTig thna. 
He is independent now of the direction of the wind, tfaougli 
not of its furre or of tlie waves ; he lias tlie choire of time 
and pla<-e, and he knows prei-i^elv the |Miiuts at which the 
mass of his forces will l>e most required ; while the defenders 
are obliged to watch lor the development of his plans, and frus- 
trate them as best they may when they have discovered the 
object of thom. The south coast of England and the north coftst 
of France have l»een most conveniently arranged by Nature for 
the desijutch of narlike expetlitions frum tlit; one to the other; 
and, fully agreeing widi Mr. CuIkIcil in dt^iring that die&e impn- 
site coasts shoidd be <lcvoted to unfettered coninierce, for which 
they arc equally well suited, instead of to rival armaments, we 
only diller with him in regard to the means by which that ol^ect 
is best to be attained. 

Mr. Pitt spoke feelingly on this subject in 1 786, when bringing 
before the House of Commons his propt>sition for extending the 
fortifirations of the kingdom. To prove the utility of thev 
furtifiratioiis he first apjirated to the unfortunate and cnlamitow 
jHj«ition in which the country had been placed daring the pre- 
vious war, and he odtled : — 

* A eousiderablo jiart of our fleet was confined to our ports to pro- 
tect otir dotikyanh) ; and thns wo wore obliged to do what Oruat 
Britain had nuver diioo before, to cany on s defensive ^var — a wsr 
in which wo wero ondcr thu necessity of wasting oar resources and 
impairing om* strength, without any prospect of any poKsiblu bene£t 
by which tti mitipnt*! our distrem. . . , Shame and ii£9iotiou wm 
btougbt u|K>u UH by the Amciriciui War. Was the Uuom rwdy to 



I 



i 




2T^e yolatttren and National Defence. 



«7 



. napaanble to poetcrity far a rapctition of nmilar miifortase* 
dugrace 9 Were they willing to talco apoo tkomaetvM the liacwd 
' truunuitling do djuigutv auil nUiuiutiuM which they thcnuelveB ao 
bitterly ejqKrionced T 

We are not a<rgTc-asivc now, any more than wr wore at th»t 
time ; we wish lor nothing bo much as peace. Out- itpi^hhoars 
are maie rcstleat, and they are outstripping us a second timR in 
the rccmistruction of their navy. 'Ilieir institutions are less- 
stable, and their army is n master tliat they are ob1i|^.-d to pstHJ 
pitiate. They have troops enough and to spare in ronati 
readiness, and their railways may be made available, whenenorl 
the occasion arises, to convey those troops to different ports, 
Numeroos steam -transports woold be found tor their conveyance 
very soon after war was declared, and Ixiats of improved eon- 
ttmcuon for landing them on oor shoren. We ought not only 
Co be prepared to repulse them on their arrival, but further 
to show them always a front so formidable as to prevent them 
fiafn spri<iuft]v entertaining thr> iilen of an attack. 

We will 8Up|iofte, tben, fur tlie sake of ai^tment, that we are 
bC war with Fmiu-e, and tliat tlu- I'lench h:iv<r made arrangements 
for an attack upon us in great force, while we have, at the same 
dale, been getting ready to receive them. A French fleet 
appaan off PU-mooth, and a British fleet proceeds thither 
to attack it. Wliile a great battle is being fnuglit there, the 
Ftenrfa mnri* down their troops upon their seajMirts, aiifl. em- 
harkint; ihcra in the course ,of the evening, they direct tbcm at 
uuce u]>i>u three or four points of the coxst between Brighton and 
the Thames, that they may reach their respective destinatiotu 
early on the following morning. Men ou hursultactk gallop to 
the nonrett telegraph-stalions as soon as the flotilla is caught 
st^bt of fnitn %'arious |Hnnts; telt-grams are sent to Whiteha 
and Pall Mall, to ttie private residences of the Ministers and the' 
Commander-in-Chief, and to the naval and military commanders 
in the viriiiity ; and the important annonncemcnt is made in 
second editions of the new3pa|>eT8 in large ty\*c. But it would 
be as useless, if there were no troops witliin reach, to depend 
Hpon the instructions consequent upon these tclegrums as uptml 
tile notices in the ncws}Mi{K.'rs for op|Kising the landing of 
CDcmT. We must now (lescriW the 8|>erial means of resia 
whirb ought to be kept in n-ailiness with tliat ubjecl. 

We will distribute tlie invading anuj' into four great division^ 
eftch contsining 50,(X)0* men ; uid we^will allot to each of theseij 

divisioi 

* Each ercil iUvbion of 50,i)0o men eonld be xnaajfoned for so iburt a dutaoMj 
in vends uving an sggivffttc of 50,000 toiu ; each would require two and a ^"^^ 




divisions a separate bay fur its attempt at laroling. TUt* difTprem 
vess<>U approach tlic .thore, and drop tlicir anchors ; antl the flal' 
Ixittometl landing-boats, which have been prepared for tlic pur- 
poBc, come alongside Accommodation-ladders are passed down ; 
the ijifnutrv, who are the first to Innd, make their wav int<> die 
boats ; tliey sit duwii, tti screen themselves as much as possible; 
the c-oininaiidin^ officer in each iNKtt take^ his seat in the bow; 
and tbey pull to land in compact order, under cover of a hcavTi' 
Arc (rom the fleet and from any small craft and armed boats thai 
may accompany them. As the foremost boats touch Uie shoiv, 
the ofliixTs jump out, followed by tlieir men ; and they pndea- 
vour to adviinre in skirniishin^ order, expecting that the next 
detachment will supply them witli support. The men of this 
first detachment will probably bf selected for tlie duty, and will 
make good use of any shelter that they can iind. They will not, 
like those that follow at a later period, be loaded with their 
luggage and provisions ; their business betn<^ to drive bnrJc, if 
l>os8ible, any force that may be assembled to oppose them, and 
at any cost to hold their own until their comrades con join 
them. 

A c»>mparali\fdy small force will suffice to check each of 
these attempts, if it be on the spot, and if it be well [tostcd 
hefoR! the boats leave the ships ; but it must aftcrwanls, to be of 
nny avail, be increased in projMrtion to the time that has been 
]ost. Ilpfore the adaptation of steam power to naval purpu»es, 



mile* of bescli and *Dc>iorsf(« ; and «ach miglit. wttb goml meana sod spplisaMS, 
be disemborked with ^ iias aad sloKs iu 12 hours ia Hae WMibur. 

n'heii itit! Ilritisli trooiM laudt-d in Kf^ut in isoi, l*,&(iO men in 900 Tcssds 
iTJcliril Alwukvr Bay on (he Ui of March, bni mvif deisined by hiid vcaititr 
till th« t»iti llar^. At two o'clock, uii iliat inoniing (Itev commcDcrd opuniliuiii ; 
&.iO(i ineti w(rr« placed in 150 lKial&, aud ihejr pulled for the Hltnre at ? a.m. uiidrr 
a bravv fire. Out, oT the 2" OOfi French tronns irho wuro t!icn In ttopt. 3W^ 
lilted iii« beach, tl&iiked by 13 gnus on oii« Kiik* and the castli) of Alwtikir oa the 
oih«r. The boala rmchi-d the land ia admimble nrdcr; ax miiiDtK aflcrwsnif 
the force Blood in baf tlu aimy. aiiri in so hour SiiUK men were established on the 
bcightc be Tctiil. Tlip K-mniudcr of tlie forw wa« landed under llieir protection. 

TbL- HriiUh uituy, of abi'iii .tO.OfO men, wss eoDveyvd lutbc CrinuniD 13S4 b 
64 vcsM'U, 31 fill- ariillL'ry ami thrir lifirws. The«L- wrre aaelion<d on the I4tb 
of September, in nx lines, at bnlf acabic apart, aud did ootoccnpy a uilc of 
nnchora^. Thuy were iait«r»li]y mipplJett with ilitr incaasof laiidiiiic guns and 
horcea, and a platform ii|^h(iii two Imnis, which was i-xtrmpnriwil for ine iit>riK)iR>, 
Mwn broke up^ Their prmcqial aid wa« d(rnv«i1 from the • Minua' and ' UrtaMla,' 
aod other small tleamerF, from <«hicb Uie troops sii-ppod asbora across a sraoller 
boat. Tbcy landed Iheiv iofuiitry tii one day, Imt the furf Impeded Ibeir fnnher 
operadoDB. The Frvnch emtmrk'ed S9,ouu meu, 68 fi«ld*pieo(% and V90U horM* 
and inulv». ia less than lUU veaaels. Tbvy carried ov«r largv flats on lh« onlcida 
of those «»se)^ with howsoptuiug like a ferry-boat, each rB[)able uf suppurtiag 
hair a battery. 

B*«idcs large tnutiporu, they have of latt coactmcted ra/wMar-^Ie-d^Mtfgw- 
mtnt of 3 Giiiieinor dnvriptiou. 

the 




d 



The Volt, 



Naiiottal Defence. 



m 



the portion of coast to be giinrtlctl a^ipst attack on a large scale 
was very much smallnr, am) therr was not, therefore, the difEcuItv 
that now exists in ilefuiuling it. In IMM a movable brigade 
was formed nt Shomclifle, for the protection of the coast of Kent, 
anil was rfnch-mtl highly efficient under General Moore during 
that and llie folhjwiii;^ yrar, by its equipment, discipline, and 
tactical instruction, and by ibi liring reailv to inov'e at a moment's 
iiuticc. This brijiradc afterwards r<>rmc>il jwrt of the I-ipht 
Division in the Peninsular War, and its services in that capacity 
were no doubt owing in a ^reat measure to the high training 
which it tbca received. Hlien we arc next threatened with 
Invasion wc shall want a numl>rr of brigiulcs of this dinner ipUon, 
staliimed as near as jKJSsiblc tu the* places ot which their services 
are likely to lie required ; ami, in aid of such a force, it will l>c 
desirable to employ as many Coast Volunteers as are founil rcaily 
to undertake tlie duty, and can be maintained in a condition of 
efficiency. They would be made well acquainted, by constant 
practice, with tlic defensive capabilities of tlic assailable portions 
of the coast in their immediate neighbourhood, and would Ik 
organised more especially with a view to their defence. They 
would throw up field-works, and might in some cases be advan- 
tAgrously provided with works of a more permanent character 
for the protection of those bays and beaches near them which 
uScred peculiar facilities to an enemy; and they would remain 
ready to defentl those works, and to assist in protffcting other 
threatened parts of the coast, on the shortest notice. I-'ive thousand 
mm would be an ample force to secure the coast against any 
one of the four great divisions of the invading force abuve 
referred tn ; and, indeed, any attempt at landing in tlie face 
of well-trained men, amounting to only half tlint number, 
would probably be unsuccessful. Ono-tentli of these should be 
caralrj*, iwotenths artitler)', one-tenth engineers, and six-tenths 
infantry. 

If invasion were imminent, camps would be formed in oon- 
veoiont hicalilies, and moveable brigades kept rea<Iy for imme- 
diate service, composed of various troops, according to circum- 
slADcet. On the Ant alarm of the approach of an enemy the 
Coast Volunteers would be called out for active service, and 
Would repair to the threatened spot, where they wnuld Ix- posted 
by llieir fjflicers (in combination, "I course, %vith all tlie regular 
troops which ctmld l>e brought up in such an enicrgt^ncy) in the 
disposition most suilabli* to the nature of the ground as the 
attack was devclojwd. Duriug tht pntgress of the enemy** 
boata from his vessels to the shore, their principal object 
would be to jwur upon them the most destructive fiic that 
Vol. 112.— iVy. 223. K could 



130 



The Volunteers ami National Defence. 



could be made avnilablf, from shot, sliell, and riflr-bnilcd ; , 
to sinit as many of the boats as possible; and to disable tbe| 
greatest number of men oat of the crowded masses in the ' 
remulndcr. Hilled g^uns and muskets will be of great ad\'nnt^re 
in this part of the operations. The guns will be placed under , 
cover from the fire of the sliips, thirty or forty fwt, as nearly as i 
may l>c, above the level of the sen ; the riflemen uill be scnttercd , 
along the shore, behind rising' ground, sand-hills, breast-works.! 
and any Dolural or artifieial cover ihxit can be procured; and all] 
must he disjKT&cd as much as jmsaible, to diminish the results ofj 
the enemy's fire, and to obtain a converfiing or a cro5S*fire aponr 
his bouts. The cavalry wiU be placed bchinil anv natural cover' 
near the beach that is available, or behind banks of earth thrown 
up for their protection, to keep tliem safe and ready for duty aCi 
the moment when their services are retjuired. 

If a cool and accurate fire Lis been maintained bylhe defenders 
upon the biHits during their progress towards the shore, the 
enemy will be in no condition afterwards to resist a close attack 
upon gaining the iKach. They must be assaulted rigorously u 
they di» so. Their gang-lwards must be knocked away from the 
boats if they attempt to use them ; and, if not, they must be 
charged by infantiy and cavaby as they struggle out of the 
water. A soldier up tit his waist in the sea, after jumping ont 
of a boat, is a most helpless animal, and the first det&chment H 
will probably fall an easy prey to well-trained and determined fl 
men ; but if it be otherwise, they must be duirgcd again and 
again, and, if jiossiblc, either taken prisimers or destr{)ye(I Ikeforc 
their supjMtrts arrive. A similar course must be pursued towards 
each succeeding detachment, if the attempt to land l>e porsevemi 
in. Should it be so, and should tiie defenders be obliged to 
retreat, they must still continue to keep up as hot a fire as they ^1 
enn upon their asseulants, and to harass them to the utmost, with fl 
the knowledge that reinforcements arc ttcing despalcbed to their 
own aft.«tistince with all pussiblc sjmvmI. 

It will tlius be seen that, supposing our fleet to have Buflercd 
reverses, or to be out of tlie way, or to be unable for any otW 
reason to act against a hostile expedition threatening tmr cooit) 
our securitj- depends upon whether we tan collect on the threat- 
ened spot a sufficient number of men and guns to repel an attack 
at the moment of its being made. Five thousand men is, tu we 
have already stated, the gn>atest number ihat we should rrauiic 
to have in immediate readiness for this purjKUie upon the most 
convenient bay or the most tempting Ix-ach. lu otlier plun-s 5^0 
would suffice, and in others, again, 50 would be mon.* than enough. 
We want readiness and efficiency rather than numbers. If we 






can 



I 



The Vtiiunteers and I^/ttionat Drfmce. 



331 



can rely upon hnving in time ofwnrwis many efficient soldiers 
«t each assailahic part nf tlm rimst as nrr reniiiml fnr the 
defiance of tliat J>art, we shall tlicn ha in a eonditiim of swiirity 
B9 fjir as our cunsts are concerned. If we cannot do so, then we 
shall be liable at such a lime to insult and loss on those parts of 
the rnast wliich an? not so defended. This will be a jflorious 
object fur the Volunteers to keep in view in further perfecting^ 
their organisiitinn. Acting in aid nf the regular fnr[v$ nnd 
utilitia, they will be able lo do very much towards pn-eerAing 
British »oil from inttull. 'I'hose who dwell un the coast aiid near 
it will be, of course, and indeed hare already been, the first to 
untlertake duties of this description. 

The defence of our riveni, liarbours, and commerciftl ports, 
WEI become a difficult matter in any future wars with maritime 
-powers pcjssessing irou-plntiil stenm-rams; and the measures to 
be adopted 'for the protection of the Mersey, the Tyne, the 
Clyde, and other centres of commerce, will retiuirc serious con- 
sidi^rntioiu Ctwst batteries nt the mouths of the rivers, or the 
entranees to ihc harlmurs, though securing them against tlie 
entrance of smaller craft, will be of liUle avail by tliemselvcs in 
tome cases fur preventing more heavily -protected vessels from 
rniuiiDg into them, and doing an infinity of mischief in them. 
Floating batteries will be of still less use, because they cannot 
be made so strong for defence, nor so |>owerful for oircnce, nor 
BO steady for accurate firing, as shore batteries, or batteries con- 
structed upm solid founiliitions. Until we can pnxrure larger 
and stmnger guns than have yet bt-en constructed, which shall 
crush in ine sides of an armour-plated vessel, we have no other 
means of protecting these important places than by stationing at 
them ftmm-rams, to act in concert witli tbc most powerful t>atteries 
that we can give ihcm ; but we can in this manner plare them in a 
greater or less state of security iieconling to their position, their 
telatirc importance, and their liability to attack. These ports arc 
Alreadv partly supplied with Volunteers (as well as with batteries), 
in proportion to the energy, wealth, number, and patriotism of the i 
population in their respective neigh bonrhfwds ; and those Volan» 
tccra are, many of them, in u highly efficient condition, nnd 
pretmn*d to do good service in rase of attack. Besides |K-rfecting 
theiiisctves in drill, discipline, and shooting, they will do well to 
practise defensive mnvenients and operations against an enemy 
supposed to be landing in their neighbourhood, wlio may 
endeavour lo spike tlie guns in their batteries, or to destroy their] 
shippini; in dock, or lo set fire U» their ston-houses, or to levy 
rontributions, or to take advantage of any particuhir source of 
weakness which their locality may present. In thus gaininff 

K 2 additional 



132 



The VoiuiHeers and Nutional Defence. 



additional experience tis ty Utc best modes of acting in their own 
defcnee, they will not only render themselves more valuable, but 
will also acquire Increased interest in their military labours. They 
would nmiain at their homes, or In the mid&t of their aeighbours 
and friends, amongst whom they would be billeted, if necessary, 
oven in time of war, when they could not with advantage be 
taken away for any other dutirs. They would want nnthir^ but 
their uniforms, arms, ammunition, and accoutrements. 'Jliry 
would be able to procure fornl and all necessaries, including 
medical attendance, as In time of peace, or at any rate without 
difficulty, in the places in which, or near which, they were in 
the habit of rrsidiug. 

The Vital Points to which we have referred are the Ro^-al 
Difckyards and Arsi^nals, with Dover and Portland. Ilie Dock- 
yards an<l Arsenals ought to be rendered secure at almost any 
cost fmm sudden attack or bombardment by sea, as-well as from 
assault by land, in tlie event of an enemy !)eing able to gain a 
footing In die r<inntr^'. Pesides being' Fef|uinHl for purposes uf 
construction, they are ninn- esjK^cialiy necessary during war as 
places uf refuge for di»abl«l vessels, a« secure rendezvous, and as 
bases of opemtiong for the fleec 

The efficiency iff the Navy could not be jMMSibly maintained 
witliout docks and basins lor rrpairing, re-coaling, and refit- 
ting ihL* dlfferont vessels of thr Wvvi in sec;urity fn>m time tu 
time. Skillwl meehani<-!> must idwa^'s l»c ready in such places, 
with spare machinery and all nMfuUIte materials at their dis- 
posal. Without such appliances, which are far more necessary 
in thcsf days of steam than they were before, our fleets wuuld 
soon become useless ; and they also want safe iinchoragrs, in 
which to ship provisions, stores, and ammunition. It is further 
esaeutial to our commerce that there shall be localities in which 
convoys of merchant vessels can safely assemble, and in which 
those vessels shall l>c able to find refuge wlien they are purancd 
by an enemy's cruisers. The tiuestiori n& to how such places 
ought to lie protected from attacks by sea is a difficult one, and 
is still undecldeil. Some would protect them by forts, otiiere 
by ships, and others again by a combination of the two; and 
this last is the method recommended by the Defence Com- 
mission. If swnirily is to be obtained against stram-rams and 
iron-plated vessels, il will be necessar>' to rumbine this com- 
IKjuikI system with solid artificial obstructions, burh obslmcdons 
were used witb good elfcct by the Russians during the Crimean 
War, botli at Selmstopid and in the Baltic. In applying them, 
the chunncls to be (lefendinl should )m' nnmiwt-d, as far as is 
consistent with other objects, and IwstUe vessels should be txim- 

jicdlcd 



• 



d 



77if VoiuJUeers and National Defence. 



183 



peUed to pus at slow speed within close ranf^* nf tlio furts and 
i>atteries. 'nicsr will of course be armed with tbe heaviest giin* 
thnt can be constructed, and perfectly protected, by armour- ' 
plntitijj; or otherwise, from tlie fire uf the ships. In any cnse it* 
would be leversing the proper onlor of Uiinys t" riiiphiy the flii--t' 
lor the protection of the dockyards, instead uf the doekvards for thtt 
repair, assistance, and security of the fleet. 

But it is not so much the sea defences as the land defences of 
these places tUnt we have now tu deal with. It is of the utmost I 
importance that they should be well fortified and well gnrrisrmml, 
and it is scarcely le&s necessary that Dover and Portland should 
abo be secure. The former is a stronghold opposite the nearest 
part of the coast of France, which must be held for three 
rcsisons : — 1. Its naturally strong position, which has l)cen for- 
tified at gi'eat expense, and its harbour, would, in combtna- 
tiim, be of* great advantage as a tHe~de-j)ont to any invading 
force that could obtain possession of them. 2. It wouUl aflord a 
valuable depot for assembling fresh troops or collecting Volunteer 
forct^, a useful entrcp('>t for stores and munitions, and a place 
of refuge upon which nny Ixniy of men inferior to the enemy 
in numbers might retreat for a time. 3. It is a strategiral 
fortress in advance of tlie metropolis, from which movi?- 
ments could be made upon the flank of an enemy disem- 
barked either to the east or the wcitt, to check his advance 
and impede his communications. Portland would also, with its 
insular jx>sition, its fine hnrlmur, am) its breakwater, Ix? a mirst 
valuable port to an enemy. It.s anchorage is sccun', it is easy of 
access, and it would \m defnntlctl by him, if he obtained pos- 
session of it, with comparative facility. For these reasons it has 
DOW been strongly fortified at moderate cost 

The Government will no doubt complete the fortification of 
these vital points witli as little drl.-iv as possible; and whivi this 
Ims licfn diini- there is lui gtK»d rrasnn why tlicir garrisons in time 
of war should aol be almost exclusively composed of Volunteers. 
Thcv would letjuire 20,(XH) men for Portsmouth and the Isle of 
VV'ight; 15,000 for Plymouth; a like number for the Thames 
and the M<-dway, including Woolwich, Chatham, Purficct, Dept- 
ford, and Slicrrm-ss ; 8000 for Pembroke ; fiOOO for Dover ; and 
300O for Portland— ma khig a total of 67,000 men out of the 
IGOjOOO of which our Volunteer force is composed. This in- 
cludes also n garrison of \.h^ men for a work which the Defence 
Commission has proi»crly recommended to lie constroru-d, but 
which has not yet been decided on, at Shooters' Hill, fur the 
protection, not only of the establishments at Woolwich, but also 
of the metropolis from thatdirectioa The Volunteers are a most 

valuable 



134 



The 



iand National D^/kUt,^ 



valuable acquisition for garristming these fortified placpi ; wid it 
is a <lutv forwiiich a pm-tinn ul' tlirm arn pectillarly wr!I adaptrtl. 
When so emplo^'ed they will be Icntgcd partly in homli-pruor niul 
otiier harmcKs, aiul partly in hillrts. They will be near con- 
siderable tiiwns, and will hare no difhculty in procuring- any- 
thing tlmt ihoy can rrquirc. Tents or huts could be supplied 
by contract on short notice ; stores and aromunition the Govern- 
mont must keep in readiness on the spot. 

These, and other measures which we have nlrcady ciinsidered, 
will all have, indirectly, a most im|MJi-tant eflcct iipiin the defence 
of the inetrupolis. llio Channel is of course our first lino of 
defence, ^anled by the fleet The coast is the next line, which 
may, and indceil must, as we hnve s}iown, be intrusted in a pfTMC 
measure to locjil corjis and Volunteers. 'ITic rommerrial ports 
and vital |M>itits may also he prin(-i|inlly protected or garrisoned, 
as far as land-scrvieo and coast-lmttories are ciinn^rneil, by tlie 
VoluntL-cr force; and therej^ular forces and militia will therefore 
be most of them liberated for active duty in the field. Under 
these circumstances no invading force of less than 200,000 men 
would vrnture into tho country; and the metropolis would be 
the int<lfiubt(^l ohjecL iif its attack. Wc ilo not believe in the 
fca«irhility of the projects that have been put fnrwiml for the 
simultaneous advance of the diBerent divisions of such a force 
from the Avon ainl the Kxe and other |Kiints ; nor shouhl we 
expect it to come from the Ilumber, or even from the coasts of 
Norfolk and Suffolk. To have any rhnnce of success it must be 
landed in three or four dirisions on the south or south-east of Ine 
coimtry ; and these divisiditfi must marrli in support ni each 
i>lher upon London without any iiiinvoitlahle delay, lliis march 
upim London (if it ever come ofl) will not »KXrnpy manv days; 
and, as long as there is any chance of its being undertaken, wc 
ought to be prrjwre<l with prompt as well as vigorous measures 
for its prevention. Any attempt on the part of the enerov to 
land sejiamte ex|wditioji8 deslinntl to converge upon I^indon 
M'ould' foe to our ndvantngi', as we should tlien, witli our admirable 
means of internal communication, be in a gorKl position to beat 
tJiem in detail. As the const between Portsmouth and the 
Thames is that which ought to lie most carefully guarded by 
const corps, so also die positions )ii-twf>en tlmt roast and London 
are those which should receive the most serious ctmsiileratinn. 
The railway junctions form im|Kirtaut stj-alepieal putnts which 
would be attackcil, ami ought therefore, as far as jwwsible, to be 
protected. The coast being the second line of defence, as above 
explained, flanknl by Dover and Portsmouth, it follows that 
Canterbury, Aabford, Tunbridgc, R«I Hill, Guildford, and 

Reading 



I 



The Voiunteers and NatiQWil Dffewx. 



18S 



Reading woold be upon the third line, uid Chatham and Stroud 
(or Shofitera' Hill), Croydon and Norwood, Kingston and Wind- 
sor, iin thn iVmrth liiin. Tlje first great buttle would Ik' fought, 
proWblj, ncit Tor in advance uf the third line ; and the onciny 
would in no case, wu will liopr, he In a position to force the 
fourth line, even if be were able to attempt it 

Although we might not have time to drill an arsny, as Mr. 
Colxlen proposes, while war was imf>ending, and while the f)n.il 
nreiKinitions for an invasitm were Iwing complf-teJ, jet we shouhl 
have ample means am) upptutunity during tint period for throw- 
ing up temporarv works in fnmt of these |iosttions. Thousands 
of ' navnes ' An<l other workmen wouUl be at once employed upon 
them nndor the ^idancc of the Er^;incers. Much might hcduno 
towanls itrenirlhoning them after the enemy had ap|)cared off ihfl 
const, ami while he was landing ; and the work wouUl proceed 
witli Inrreased Keal and greater confidpnce alter he had so far 
developed his plans nnd given indications of his probable lines 
of march. If he were sucresbful in making goo<l hia landing, 
he would then of course be hara.ssed day and night, and confined 
as far as possible to the ground on which be stood. Livery 
impediment would be thrown in the way of his advance by such 
tTDups as muht be pinp1ove<l lor the purpose ; each point would 
be disputed, and he would be continually compelled to clear the 
WAV before him. No chance would be missed of annoying tiim 
by demonstrations on his llanks or in his rear. Every available 
nuQ would be summoned by telegraph, conveyed by railway, 
anS honied to the scene of action ; and by the time he reached 
the third line above indicated, both men and works would be 
in a condition to receive him. 

The Volunteers would render important aid in these procecd- 
iagt. Those who found themselves in rear of the enemy, or on 
his Hanks, would close upon him as opportunity offered, and add 
to bis difficulties to the best of dieir power. They would sui^ 
pn'se his out|>agt9, cut off his stragglers, and keep up a distant 
fire from all sides upon any bodies of his men who lw_'came 
exposed to it on tlie march nr in camp ; and the long-mngc 
Wempons of tbe present day wouhl enable them to do tiiis with 
tdvaniage. Those who were brought up in front would assist 
in checking his advance ujion the positions which were being 
jircparcd to stop it, and in destroying or carr)-ing off anything 
that might be of use to him. The Engineers would assist in 
blowing up the bridges and viaducts in his front, woubl super- 
intend the throwing up of intrenchmenls, and, while utilising all 
obilaclea favourable to defence, would level buildings, walls, 
bridges, and all other cover which would he likely to favour his 

operations. 



Tfie Voiunteers atid NtUional Defence. 



n{>cmtions. Tlie artillery would pour shot and shell upon him 
from any heights a\*ailabie for the purpose, and would (x-cupy 
the batteries prepared for their reception. Those riflemen who 
were nut fit for moi'e active exertinnsi would man some of the 
intrcnchrnents in which it was priiposwl to make a decisive 
stand with a view to a gt^neral enf^gemont 

But the Volunteers who would do these thinf^sofTcctually must 
be prepared to remain iu the field. Their active service against 
the enemy woulil not prolwhly ext^mtl (iver more tiinn a few 
weeks ; but a proportion of th«in ought to Iw made inilejiendent 
of house and home for tliat period of time ; and others might be 
required tti keep watch along the roasts for many months. There 
are no corps that carry knapst-icks or any kind of kit at present; 
and it is certainly not ne<;essar\' that they should all be so bur- 
dened. Those will 1 are drslinitd fur gmTiHon ilutv, or (or sen-ice 
in (-ommerrial ports, iiefKl not carry mure than their muskets, 
their grcal-coats, and sixty rounds of ammunition in tbeir pouchn. 
But those who are intended for coast-duty and general serrioe 
ought to be better provided. Volunteers would not want, for 
temporary use, such lic-avy kits as regular soldiers. Light knap- 
sacks, each containing a flannel shirt, a pair of trowsers, socks, 
boot£, towel, soap, a 'hold-all,' and a tin of grease, and weighing 
from 12 to 1.^ lbs., would be all, besides the aliovo — a mess-tin 
and cover, and provisions according to circunuttances — that they 
would rec)uirc. Tents, and cutting and intrenching ttxila, would 
have to tw carried for tliem ; and, indetHl, a complete system of 
trnnsjKirt might, acting us they wuuld be in this country oAlv, 
be orgajiiseti for them, which would, by Iwiviiig lliem unfettcreit, 
no doubt render them more ei£cient. It would l)e mtct-ssar)' 
for this purpose to select four men out of every hundred, or to 
attach that number to each company, for superintending these 
and nil necessary arrangements. One would be madt- responsible 
for matters of traiisjYort, and for the tents, baggage, stores, and 
tools; a second fur the provisions and cooking; a tliird, whea 
necessary, for the care of the sick and wounded or di£able<l ; a 
fourth for the spare arms and ammunition. The baggage would 
consist of a stated allowance for each officer, noD-cuuimissioned 
officer, ond private ; and it would bo reduced to the smallest 
quantity consistent with efficiency. The whole might b<? con- 
veyed for each rifle-corps by means of five covereil sprJug-carts, 
with one horse and one driver each, to every hundred men. A field 
force wjuipped in this manner, with its proportion of cavalry, 
artillerj', and engineers, nil similorly accompanied in proportion 
to their re(|utrements, would form the etitc of the Volunteer 
armv ; and we shall hope to see, when the necessity arise*, 

50»000 



I 



■ 



The VoUmteers and National Defence. 



187 



},000 men w tniin«] and prepared in difTcrent parts of the 
Ictngdom. It would be an iuU'»ntag(> to organise at least a few 
model corps of this description beforehand, in order that the 
system might bo tried in practice, and titat it might be ready for 
more funeral adoption in a time of croer}*enry. 

Uut it is not in this country alone that the necessity of an 
organised drfence by Vohinteer forces has been experienced. 
Happily we arc? no hingcr afraid tti * put arms ' intii the liand« of 
our colonists anv more tlian to make suKliers of our Tmrne popu- 
Ifttion ; and they feel that those who would have most to lose from 
foreign aggression should combine in strength to resist any possible 
attack. Acting upon thewprinrijilcs, theC-anadiansnnd the Austra- 
lians am loyally ]ir*»vidinf,' in njipwitP dirertions from us for their 
own defrnec, in a manner whi(-li is no li-ss wise than it is mi>ri(»> 
riuDS, The Canadians have 15<)0 miles of frontier Ui di-fi-ncl ; and 
it is possible that an unsuccessful and exasperated soldiery in 
wuit of uccupatiou and excitement may be only too ready to 
find an excuse for attacking them l>cfore many months are past. 
Tht^v are therefore rarefully discussing and eunsidcring — though 
an unt.'s|»ecti.'d hitch has rcccnUy occurred in the provincial par- 
liament — how they can best, by enrolling militia and volunteers, 
■ certain number for active aer\'ice, and others as a reserve, assist 
in securing their own safety. 

The Australians, though more remote from Eunipean and 
American strife, Itave much to prtitect, and Imvi; alsu berti pn-- 
pnring tu resist atiy force that M'ouM l>e likely to attack them. A 
Volunteer movement commenced in Victoria in 1855, in conse- 
quenfze of the Russian war. It was afterwards promoted by feel- 
ing* similar to those which gained ground in the motlier country ; 
nml by tlie end of 1860 tlie force numWreil upwards of 4000 men, 
of whom 3f)0 were cavalry, GOO wereartilk'ry, and the remainder, 
with the exception of 250 naval volunteers, and one company of 
engineers, were ritles. This force, which has since increased to 
47')') men, is under the military command of the major-general 
commanding the regular troops, and under tlie immediate orders 
of an officer of tlie general stiff of the army. The local govern- 
mrat are empowered by law to raise 10,000 men ; but they hare 
hitherto abstained from going to so great an expense, and have 
contented dieinselves with ju:cepting the services of coast-corns, 
because the country could only be attacked from the sea. TIip 
Cittmatcs for 1S62, on account of the A'oluntecr service, ammuit to 
23,40i*/,, or about 5/. per man ; and they include ."iOOOi for prizes 
and ineidenlals, 4000/. for clothing, and 7000/. for drill-instruc- 
tion for the different arms, lliey also provide extra pay for the 
tiomm&nding colonel, pay for certain officers, serjeant-majors, 

and 




138 



27« Voia 



NcU tonal Dfiftntee. 



and buglers, and the meuu of practice and tnstntction. The uni- 
forms are very flimplo, consisting uf loose frock, trousers, and 
fora^ cap, ol' different colours, with n-hite, black, or buif accoutre 
ments, RiQe-nn(|res and practice-butts arc Hupplied br the 
Gnvcmmciit, as well as clothitig for the men ; but bands and all 
luxuries mt! putd fur bv the funds of the curps. la IBCl, and 
ngttiii in the jireseiil j'ear, the force was called out to a gr^neral 
eiKainjmient, and kept under canvas for four or five days; and 
on these uccasions all the details of camp-lil'e were practised. 
The Government found transports, tents, and ratlous ; but the 
men received no [taj, and Ihcy [irovided bedding, couking* ui«»- 
sils, and all the other tliiiij^s tliat tlief required. 

Duriiij; tUc war in New Zenland, in IfiliO, when tiYwps werel 
much wanted, the local Government readily B<>;reed to part withf 
all the regular ti'oops from Victoria, and garrison duty iraa 
formed by rhc Melbourne Volunteers for several months dazing^ 
their absence. Nunc of the corps were embodied, but each corpsij 
WAS (-Jillisl u[xm to provide its quota for the day's dutv, aemnl-j 
ing to rtJSter. The men received Gs., and thp non-commii 
nftitanTs 8a, per day, when actually on duty. The officers 
garrison dutv in their turns without pay. A lar^e proportion 
the rank and file consisted of clerks and employes in banking 
or mercantile houses, or tradesmen's assistants ; ond the periectj 
success of the system was due in a great measure to the public i 
spirit and gelf-sacrifii-eof tlicir emjdoyLTs, who were tlitis drpriretll 
of their sprviecs at jH'ritKls over which they had no coiitnd. VVtyj 
arc glad to be able here to refer to this very honourable httlai 
episode in colonial history, which is not as well known at ilj 
ought to be. 

The Victorians, acting in the belief that their emergency was 
more pressing, liave iade«l iKvn more liberal nf public funds, 
more <;nrr);<!tic iu individual acti<m, and mom practical in their 
training than ourselves. Tlicy fult that they cnahl not sd^^H 
upon the omnipresence of the British flivt, and they saw dM^| 
necessity of providing other safeguards against the risk of a 
Tisil from a hostile squadron, cither from Europe or from Ame> 
rica. They have gone beyond us in many other ways, and 
we are not inelincvl to follnw them in all respects. But it is 
certain that additional tniintug in r-amp would br of great 
advantage to the British Volunteers; and still more so, if it wert^l 
conducted with reference to the S{>ecial object uf defending somJH 
part of the coast in the mode above described. Sir ChariM 
Nnpipr's idea on this subject wag not a b»d one. He despaiird, 
in I8r)2, of the Government ever taking measures to place the 
country in a state of defence, and was then hoping that Voluntrew 

might 



A 



The Volttniea-a and NiUioaal Ikfence, 



189 



iuig:ht come fn-ward to assist in that objecL In wntiiifc to Lord 
Elicnborougb, he sattl, 'Those more remote coald come tb(> nifrht 
befnref sleep in standing? tents kept fur them, have next day's 
cacerruK>, sleep a second night, nnd march home the next day i 
mhI agaui, ' A corps aftiT a nij^ht \\\ t-nmp wimld be twice thr* 
value the next day, for by sDcb ftetails the moral ferlinj^ of sol- 
diers is rai$e<l nearly a& much as by more jmirerfiil meniu which 
these small details prepare them for.* 

In the mean time our Voluntwra have l>cen by no means inac- 
ti%'e in th<^ present year ; they have had reviews and Aeld-dayt 
in ahuiidaiire, and dicre is still a long list of lliosc which 
are to foiiiL*, Iii their admimlili: organ, thi- ' Volunteer Ser\-ico 
Gazette^' extendini^ into September, and includinp- the; pn>- 
posed encampment on Ascot lieatb on the 2nd of August, The 
wemon commenced must auspiciously at BnE?bton, on Kaster 
Monday. The 20,000 men who stood on Wliite Hawk Down 
on tiiat day formed a luiblo spectacle ; and their snt«r(|uent 
nutrch past tbi; Omiid Stand, as well as their maiKeurre-s against 
their colleagues of the Inns of Court, appropriately emploveil to 
re p r c tent the Enemy, were a gladdening sight on a charming day. 
The rellection that the third of die * Panics' bad been succeetled 
by tlie c-onfidpjirp dor to an udranced stage of preparation must 
bare been satisfactory to every mind but that of Mr. Cobdcn. 
Wn hope never tj> see anf>thrT Easier Mimdav witlunit such a 
review. It does uiimixttl good, by affording a logitimat« object 
for whoU-wnTiK fXdrrise lo many who need it, a practical lesson of 
t value to nJl who take pnrt in it, an example of patriotic 
ing to all who witness it. and a useful hint to those in other 
■Cttuntriea who read of it. It takes some away from less manly 
and less ennobling pursuits, demonstrates to others <tefu'i<*ncii*s 
that they would otherwise-* nut jwrceive, and gives vent to the 
OMUtial spirit of which neither manufactui-es, nor commerce, nor 
OHMperity, nor peace, have deprived the nation. The great 
nsenat which was felt in the review was testified by the com- 
meata in the press, the numliers on the ground, the crowds col- 
lected in London to witness tht* return of die gallant corps, and in 
ntlicr wavs ; and wi; had ounielvr-s the pleasure of travelling from 
I^mdun to Brighton in the morning, in company with tlie wife 
of a Kussian merchant^ who had come from St Petersburg for 
the express purpose of seeing her son, a member of die London 
Unircrsity Corjis, and the * tallest man in it,' go through his |Mirt 
of tha ceremony. 

Those who watched clnselv the way in which the different 
corp« took np their ground, ami went dirougb Uieir sulise- 
ijQcnt manaruvrcs, could not but observe that the Commanding 

Ollicers 



140 



The Volunteers and National Defence. 



Ofiiccrs ami Adjutants were ublij^cHl to make up by increased 
activity for the mistakes of the company officers, ami that tho 
commanders themselves were not perfect The numbers on 
the fiehl have \\ovn aptly compared to ttiosc engagrd on the 
Hn^llsh sidr? at thr battle of the Alma, and the jMisiliim af tlm 
* nevil's-own ' on the Red Hill to that of the Russians on tha 
heights wliith were carried by the British troops (hiring tha 
battle, on the tfOtb September, Itj54. But if thcgeceraU who wer*! 
under Lord Raglan on that day liad broug^ht their troops into line 
at ri|i;ht angh^s to the Rusainns, as one of the brigadiers nf 
Clyde did to the west of the White Hawk Down, instead ■ 
keiMiin^ their front to the enemy, they would have ensured i 
evitable defeat. Even the steadiness of British troops could n 
hare endured, first, partial destruction by enfilade, ond afterwa 
a chanjje of front under fire, such as tlic \''o!umeers were oblige 
to make before they could advance. These and other mi 
defects — as, for instance, firinc^ from all sides of the squares, 
friend as well as foe — must have been perceived more clearlj 
the gallant Vcdunteers themselves than by their spectators ; 
they have since been made occasions of criticism. But jt is n 
generally known, as it ought to bo, tliat the jirincipal mistake 
tlie day above rcferrei) to was made by an officer of the Regnal: 
Army who had been appointed to a command, and not by 
Volunteer ; and that the Volunteers themselves bad not, after a1 
so much to answer for in this respect as the regulars who aid 
them. Regular troops, indeed, seldom go through a ficld-da; 
without some blunders. 

The mnk and file have taken so much pains to perfect them- 
selves, that they deserve to be thoroughly well commanded. The 
officers have been chosen in many instances for their libenl 
contributions, their activity in the cause, or their local inflaei 
rather than for their efficiency in other respects. Thero 
luiMTver, instances in which noblemen iumI others, some of wh 
have iM?rveil in the regular anny, have taken the trouble 
qualify theuist-lves, and have lM>come highly efficient. We ha 
one advantage in this country, in possessing a number of retired 
offifrrrs who are glad of an interesting occupation, and of one 
wliieli brings them into communication with people whom thej' 
are glad to meet^ and with their fellows generally. But n good 
Volunteer officer requin-s to be a man nf various qu:iiifiratj 
which are not so necessary In an officer of the regular arm 
He has to command men of all classes, of high education 
with considerable fortune — his superiors in rank, perhaps, a: 
his equals, at least, in independence — and he is obliged ti> 
^em with a degree uf courtesy which is not always employ 




TTlfi 



atid National Defence. 



141 



by »n officer of the liiK* towards Uis men. The Volunteers will 
forgive murh in their ofTicers if they find them attentive in the 
jierformiuice uf ibrir duties ; but jnefliciejicy is a fault which they 
ciuinot pardon, and no mnn &hould dosiro to occupy such a {mei- 
tion who has not first educated himself for it, and determined to 
perform its duties with dili|:ence. VV'p are glad to learn that a 
mnrlied improvf-mrnt has lately Ik'c-ii (ibs«^rvrd in tlie ulTicers and 
non-i-oiiiinisiiouetl uflitu-rs, and »i>ine of tlu* corps havr lK!en 
hrimg^ht by thttm into a state uf diticipliue which is truly 
admirable. It was noticed very lately that Lord Grosvenor's 
corps, DfH) strong, marched in line for 200 or 250 yards, and 
when luilted did nut rct|uin! to lie dressed. 

Frrqui-iit practice m the principal inethixl to be employed for 
training the officers as well as the men, and theofficcrs frequently 
labour under great disadvantages from the want of good opportu- 
nities. The men, who have less to Icani, can be instructetl in 
small numbers ; but the ufiicers caniiol be elTcctually trained 
without a larger muster of men than it is possible In the general 
way tu collect. It would be a great advantage to both, besides 
being interesting to the public, if the programme of any con- 
siderable operations to be gone through were in all cnscs to be 
made known lieforehand. This would incite them to the study 
of military manoeuvres, and vimld create discussion upon the 
subject ; and it would be far more I>eneficial than tlie system of 
keeping the operations secret, and reserving them as a teat of 
cfEcicncy. It would be sufficient if they were publishecl in a 
cheap form, with a plan attached to them, a mouth before the 
proposed field-day. 

It is now ]>ermitted to each Volunteer corps to choose its oflm 
aaiform and uceoutrements, provided gold-lace is not used upon 
them, ftubject to the approval of the Lord-Lieutenant of the 
county ; and the Volunteer Regulations recommend that tlie 
clothing shall be similar in colour for ench arm in the same 
county, especially in the case of corjjs that are likely to be united 
in a<lministrative regiments, brigatles, and Imttaliuns. M. Martin, 
in commenting upon this ammgcment, arrives at the conclusion 
that it will probably have le«l *(i d'asjtez qrotesqtus ristdUUn.' We 
do not know, of course, how the di^rcnt costumes that have been 
adapted would appear to his eyes ; but we have not oursclvesi 
been able to discover iinything of tlie gn>te!»|ue alMut them. On 
the contrarv, ihry are generally of the most somhrc and Imsiness- 
like chaiiiLter. We quite admit the propriety of leaving it to the 
Volunteers to suit tlieir own tastes as much as possible, but we 
sluwld be better pleased if they exercised those tastes diflcrcntly. 

It 




142 



The Vohitticcrx and National Defence. 



It is of Irss inijwirtanci- lu time of peace, but in a jioriod of 
it woulil Im? a grpfti a<lvaiita<^ in various resnecU if the Rifle < 
corps vcrc all clothed in scarlet, and closely a&similated inj 
appearance, as well as the Kngineers and Artillcn-, to the rpgulftr] 
troops. They would then be more easily r«-<>g-niBed by ibeir 
firinwU, and savrd rn>m the dnnprr of firing upon one another, 
wliich is the miBt disastnma of all mistakes ; they would present ' 
a more soU1ici>Uke ap]icarancc ; and they would not be distin-l 
guishnblc by their enemies, or even by M. Martin when ha 
Comes amon}*st us, from regular troops. 

The Brighton review also afforded a good practical demon-] 
stration uf tlir facility with which Iroops mijrlit Ix- moved townnU 
a thn-ateiied |»oint on the particular niilway which would be] 
most likely to be required lor such a duly in an actual ca« of j 
emerpcncy. On the morning of the review G*J22 V'olunteer«f 
were despatched from London Bridge in 2 hours and 41 minutr^j 
and 5170 from the Victoria Station in 2 hours and 20 minutes,] 
withnut difficulty. They were conveyed iu 16 trains, each com- 
posed of an engine and tender and 22 vehicles, and each carrV"! 
ing on an average 20 ofTu-ers and 735 men ; and they reitcbcdj 
Brighton in an average of 2 hours and 28 minutes irom tl 
time of starting. The Brighton Company borrowed on this occa-| 
sion 72 carriages from Uircc neighbouring companies, and 70} 
carriages also brought Volunteers over their railway fn>m other] 
lines; but they had to provide for their ordinary |>nssenger-| 
traffic on that day, as well as for the Easter Monday traffic 
the Cr^'stal Palace, which was very considerable, and to convej 
upwanls of 2000 Volunteers along tlie south coast from th4 
fcveral stations on their own line. Indeed, tbc total number 
jmsicngers who travelled U|>on the London, Brighton, and South] 
Const Uailway on that day was 132,202, including Voluut 
and the holders of season and return tickets. 

Tlie vast i>ower which the railways of tliis country place 
the disposal of the Government for the transport of troops il^ 
little known. It is in practice limited only by the number of 
troops that are forthcoming, and railway organisation is highly 
favourable for the concentration of all its cncrpies u]>on this 
object whenever it is worth while to interfere with the ortlinarj 
traffic. 

Connected with the Brighton Railway s\stcm alone thero 
145 locomotive engines, 1858 carriages or passenger vehiclea, aii 
2588 waggons ami tnicks or merchandise vehicles, fnr workin| 
240 miles ; on (he S«»uth-F.asl(Tn tlicre arc 179 engines, 973 
carriages, and 2535 waggons^ for 2ti(> miles ; and ou the Sout 

Western 



TTkfl Volunbvrx trnd N(ttional Defence. 



143 



VVesteni, 177 engines, 850 carriages, anJ 3488 trucks* for 444 
miles. These numljers might lie incimsf^ to any amount, if 
increase were requirwl, at a tl.iy's notice, by aid from iIip gigantic 
resources of tlie more extensive systems north of La 'ndon. Kxcur- 
sion tniffir is more difficult to manage in many respects than 
military tmfiic. A worti from the cnmmiinding-officcr procures 
an amount of onlcr in the one case whii-li bnrrirrs and |>olicemen 
fiul to do in the other. A himdrctl thousand men may at an^ 
time be conveyed without fatigue from Lomlon to Brighton in a 
single day, and they may further be ti-ansported along the a)ast 
from point to point, to Portsmouth and Weymouth on the west, 
mnd to Dover nn the east, without break of gauge. They may 
also be brought fnim the north through l^ondon, and from the 
north, ri'ri Heading, without coming to London at all ; and, in- 
deed, the means of mmmimication thus affiirdrd are of so much 
importanco to succGssfuI defence, that the railway svstem detei^ 
mines to a great extent in this country, as it has notably done in 
America, the stintegir lines along which offensive operations 
most be carried on, and defensive movements ejected. Railways 
most become primary objects of attack anil (h^fenre, and the 
scixure of important junctions, such as Drighton and Lewes, 
would form part of any project of invasion that was judiciously 
conceived. 

There is another question of transport, which has attracted 
less attention, but is also well deserving of notice. \Ve have 
already shown the importance in a time of danger of having a 
boily of troops more or less numerous, according to the liM-ality, 
muv to oppose an attempt at landing on any part of the coast at 
the shortest notice. Where railway communication is available, 
It would of course be emplovcd, for moving to a distance, or for 
following a hostile fleet roand the enast; but the difficulty still 
remains, of moving llie guns and stores from the railway tn the 
sbore^ or for shorter ilislances round the coast, ami for dotng this 
without loss of time by means near at band. Kor this pnrpose all 
the beasts of burden and vehicles of the neighbourhood would, 
of coarse, be willingly offered, and many would be speedily used 
in a period of actual danger ; but it is an advantage to organize 
these matters to some extent befoi^hnnd ; and a aseful step in 
this direction has been taken by Captain Darbv of tlie Mnilsliam 
Volunteers a country gentleman of Huftsex. He h.is constructed 
ft chart, showing the farms in his neighbourhood, with the 
mimbcr of horses, oxen, and drivers which each farmer is rcaily 
to furnish ; and on the occasion of the Brighton review the guns 
of the Hailshojn Volunteers were brought to the ground, ami 

moved 



The • Volunteers and National Defence. 



inovnl tlirougbimt the clay, by carters with, long whijts, whii 
liMiketl as pleascilf sturdy, and loyal, in their iiuiock-rr(ii:ks, at^^| 
any utbcr VulunCeers uti the ground. ^1 

Tbcro is a very general opinion among them at the preient 
time, when many arc wanting new nnifortns, that if further aid>i 
be not alfordtHl by thr Guvf?niint>nt ibrir numbi-iii wilt diminisli./ 
Tlir ri-]Kirt ol' tiw Connnis»!tin, vvhiih is now <■u^aglnl in ruit 
siilcving ibis ami utbcr'subji-iUi connected with them, will 
awaiteil with anxietj ; but in the mean time their strength 
happily not yet decreased. Compared with the advantage ol 
possessing such an army, any extra charge to the nation at the 
rate of 1/. or 2/. for each Volunteer per annum — the former bcii 
li'^ss than one-thini of the cost of a single iron-plated fri^ 
— would be insignificant; and .additional assistance should 
cautiously rcndercHl to them, more on their own account 
from any consideration of further overburdening the public rcvent 
to Buch an amount. The Volunteer estimates may be expect 
to increase ; but fftcilitics and advantages rather than direct pecu- 
niary .lid should l>i; afforded to the different corps. TIic more tlieyl 
are indeiK'tKlent and &elf-suppurting, the more generally will theyl 
be composed of men of that class which it is most dt^inible to sec 
in their ranks. It pay were given to the individual members i| 
would lower their tone, and cause tlie spirit in which they werej 
established to depart from them. They would degenerate inG 
local militia, and come more umler military' control, wliile thai 
sum to be shared by each would hardly be worth his receiWngj 
Their chief merit, which consists in the loyal feelings which theyf 
display, would be lost il they indulged their |>atriotism at tas 
expense of tin- State, 

Any pecuniary assistance which it may be considered de- 
sirable to extend to them (and of course soch assistance i 
would not be designed to supersede voluntary f»ntributior 
fnim tlioHc who arc unable to give their personal serviccj 
should Ik! applietl through a finnnrf^ committee in each corps^l 
in consultation witli iIuj commanding ufBoer, and under GoJ 
vernmeut supervision ; and it should be given in projwrtit 
to the number of cflective members. The diflercnt metropulit 
and provincial corps li.ive all their own peculiar difHcultiet' 
to contend with. The former often want !t|Mice for exercise, the 
latter concentration for tiuiaiiig. Some corps have dimo wondetJi 
by small regular suliscriplions and econumical manHgrment,] 
while others are in poverty with ampler resources. .\id to thai 
extent of about 2/. per annum for each effective member is wliat ' 
they would now be satisAcil with ; and there i^ ccrtaiuly mudi 

force 



i 



77/c Volutiieera tmd Nutioitai Deftnt^, 



Uh 



force in the argument that the officers and others, after convcrtiiift 
the eiperiment, as they have done, into a greiu success, nuglit 
now to be relieved from the heavv expenses which tliej have in 
■away rases m h)ja]ly incurred on account of tlicir men or 
their felloirs. At all events, all the ftirtlter aid that can Iw 
jtiven in assUtin^ them to obtain drill-sheds^ excrcise-^ounds. 
rifli'-ranees, and practice-butts, iti convenient situations, will 
hi* well iM-stowcd. Many corps have siifierrd materially from the 
want of tlie-so Uiinjt^s; thev are ex|irnsive as well as difficult 
to obtain, their rnlue amountini;- in the a^ifrc^ate, including those 
tluLt htvc already been acquired with those that arc still much 
wanted, to upwards of a million of money ; and they are perma- 
nent b>*neftts, wlilrh can hanily be too numerous, or too much 
ilithised thntuf^ltiiut tin* cciuiilrv', M«)re particularly should thi"? 
^'olunteer!: lie afl'mdi-d (ipportuiiilics for field-tlays, nTvlews, and 
fil^hts, as well as encampments, on the coa&t and inland, 

h o view to special training in the directions which wc have 
ind tented. 

\V*r liMtk forward to a furtli(?r system of or^'anir.iition of this 
description as the next ^rand step to hi* taken. We rejoice t»i 
sec the VolunliHTs and the fortifications advancinj; haiid-ii»-hand, 
and shall be glad to find them ultimately linked together in a 
taimplete scheme of ilefence, after the manner of that which we 
have depicted. We should then acquire tliat con6<lence at home 
ami that rr-spi'ct abroad which are so nccpssnry to the increase 
of our i-ommcrcial j»n>ypcrity. We should feel less tliat the vast 
extent and tempting wcahh of our empire, whiidi are symptom* 
of pre-eminence in peace, were sources of weakness in war. Our 
metropolis wcmld not ruipiux! {wrmaticnt works for its defence. 
The whole island would tieeome a vast fortress strcure at all 
|toints. TT»e Volunteers would form n material ]Mirt of its 
garrison. Being trained, not only to tlie general duties uf the 
soldier, but also to sjiecial sor\'ices, and being intrusted with indi- 
vidual responsibilities, each man would know his post in thc^ 
moment of danger, and repair to it. He would feel that he was 
usikting in hid o%vn selected way to provide for the defence of 
his country, and that by so doing he was responding to Ne1si>n*s 
Qoble signal, which can never t»e loti often quoted or too exten- 
sively applied, — Exouvsd expects eveuy man to im his duty. 



Vol. 112.— A"f'. ?2.v. 



Akt. 



( 146 )' 



Aut. V. — EnylUh Poetrtf from Drtfden to Cotopgr. 

IN B. recent paper attention wag called to some of the feat 
by which EnpHsh poetry, from Chaucer to Milton, Ii cot 
trastr<l with that of imr i»wn ago. Wo then dwelt mninlr on th< 
peculiartticrs cxbihited hy the t-arly Art, its limitations and U 
excellences, without much inquiry why these things werc 
It is our wish here to notice certain further aapectj of th^ sai 
interesting? subject, in which the political and social circ 
stances of the country during the century and half followir 
lG6fl will bt; found to hold a leading pnaiiinn as causes operatii 
on the career nf tlic Knglish Muses. Fur Poetry, under ner oi 
peculiitr laws, is, more perhaps tlian any utlier pursuit of mai 
the direct reflection of the spirit of every ago as it passes, 
mirror she holds up is not so mucJi to Nature at large as 
Human Xature. The poet is indeeil the child of his centni 
even when, in tlio fine Tig^iro of Schiller, he returns from 
dhication under a Grecian sl{y to tc-nch and t» purify it Hi| 
Art not only gives hack the form and pressure to the iMxly 
the time, but is itself die impersonation of its mo«t adva 
thought, the efflorescence of its finest spirit. 

In our brief notice of the writers iiadcr Ed^rard III. one 
Elizabeth it was considered suificicnt to indicate this identity] 
between the naliunal anil thr poetic life. Every one feels in-] 
stinctively that the sjiirit shown in the rampai™ns which con-' 
uuered half France in one retgn, ami founded the settlements' 
wluch were to conquer more than half America in the otho— 
the spirit which animated WjcklifTe and Bacon — apjKare*! also 
in Ciiaucer ami Sjwnser, Sidney and Sliakespeare. There is 
a congruity pleasing to tlu- imagination Ix'tween the spIendt^l^H 
poetry prnduceil under Klizaheth and her successors and tli^H 
struggles and vigciur of their times. P<ieti'y is here much in- 
debb^d to history, which by successive ad^'anccs has revenled to 
us the inner worth and meaning of that period. Queen EUa- 
licUi, iiuleMJ, lins alwavs retained a popularity little likely (* 
think) to he shaken by nnvattni-ks of sceptical investigation; D' 
the Commonwealth had Iwen loo severely judged, ami the reall 
heroic qualities then disulaywi by many have been tardily recog* 
niscd. There would almost seem to be a species of law by 
which tlw latest past phase in national thought and manDers^ 
like the latest jiubt fashion, becotnes especially distasteful in 
its turn : nor sliall we escajje this fate. Thus English ijoetr)-,, 
to Johnson, almost begau witli Dryilen : wliilst hi the rritlrisnt' 
now popular, the stream seems almost stayed after Dryilen. We 




I 

4 



think 1 



Englith Poetry from Dry den to Cowpn: 



147 



I 



I 



think that lliU reaction against the times just gone by, wSttt which 
every nnc is familinr, hits acconijjlish(>(l its purjmse; tliaC it is 
tim* to conuder the ei^hte^iitli rentury in n n»jre historicul 
tpirit, Rskin^ how far the poetical tasto tiwn prcvdent wai the 
neccssfury result of otiicr ami wider causes, nnd how far it per- 
formed a useful part in advancinir the national mind. Th« law 
of nntipnthv nl>nve notictil appears to us tn have done injustice 
In the post-Kf^omtinn lit^rulnrp (which for convenience *re will 
dc5ne lis that from ItitJO to 17Sft*), nnd to that which followed lo 
IHOO; the aims, the sj>irit, and the circumstances influencing 
the writers have been, in consequence, misstated or neglected. 
It it proposed hew* — I. To examine the real cnutct of the change 
inaupinited by Dryden, its olijecls, and it*? development to llie 
time of i*upp, niilicinff briefly wlml share French literature and 
ancient models excrciMHi over Knjjlami ; II, To trace the course 
of the modern school throu;;h the dilTerent lines into which it 
dire^es under George 1., and lo ]K>int out the chief links that 
unite the style of this century with its predecessor. We believe 
it may be proved that the aim of the first writers of the modem 
school was to give to poetr>' greater clearness, condensation, and 
ctraighcforwarflness of style, while extending its range to new 
fields ; and tliat this was done, not nnder diriH-t foreign influence, 
hut in obedience to a general movement in Kurupean thought. 
In our later pages it will be shown bow tins triticnl spirit 
(ijtened the wny lor bold and varied experiments in noetry ; 
how n peculiarly high and manly tone accompnnieil these 
attempts ; how, after a tmnsitionnl period, when new an<l old 
were unconsciously and not nlwoy* happily blended, poetry 
burst forth in the more splendid and complete achievements 
of uur own age. It may be seen that the course of literature 
it here treated as necessary and natural, personifif-d, indeed, 
in indiridoals. yet in the main holding on in an irresistible 
current ; sometimes fed only by its own rrwmrces, sometimes 
widened or discoloured by external influences; sometimes, as it 
were, returning to renew itself from the hmntuins of its youth, 
.^nd it may be a lesson of high Miluc if the render derives 
from the survey a conviction of tliat groat truth of human 
progress so long since anticipated by the imperial-souled his- 
torian of the CiFSArs— that '-uierc is a kind of circle in things, 
through which, like the revolution of the seasonal, the minds and 
thoughts of men pass ;* that there is no final ji-ause, or canon of 
the jyrfect and the complete in Art; that hence moderation in 
judgment is the only siife and wise attitude for a creature whose 
intellect seems to move, onwards and with increasing pur|M>se 

L 2 indMrd, 



148 



EnifUsh I'oetri/ 



indeed, vet ever Uiruugli the spiral orbit of surcessive 
actions.* 

I. It was, wr believ*', tlirouj^h tlie |»oet Soutliey — a man 
M'lunn it may bt* now not improper to say that be never did 1' 
justice to any one ol' hiamany rt^markable gifts — that the criticisi 
aroso wbicli speaks nf *thn Fromh sidiuul ' in English literatur 
This appcnrs to us an ill-cbuiicii and niislnidinjj; plirosc?. 
epithet so far rt-prismts tbu truth tliat Cliarlcs U. had lived 
I'ranci'. that he received pay fioin Lewis, and imported 
Whitehall a very Eng;lish imitation of Versailles; that sever 
of die court ier-WTitcrs of the time had resided or travelled 
France ; and that riench pmw and iwetry, tlicu Ixr^inning ibc 
course, were iu tlic bands of die less serious jiortion of 
literary men of England. .But when wc turn Co our liter 
ture itself, few and far between are tlie direct proofs of thil 
foreig^n influence. Dryden was undoubtedly the leading spiri 
in the new style : but, oxt-rpC in sume of liis long-foi^ttcn plu^'sj 
in wluit sense can the author of the 'lliml and Panther,' 
'Abialom and Achltophel,'the versifier of Chaucer iind Hoccaccit 
the translator nf Virgil, Juvenal, and I'lutarcb, be called & fol 
lower of the French school ? l*ass on from the first of th 
modern stvie to tlic latest of Uie p(>st-licsb)rattou poets. Caa 
any writer \x- more characteristieally English tlian Prior, whether 
in * Alina,' or in ' Solumon ' ? — than Pope in the ' Essays ' or tlii 
*Sntires'? The fact is, that the only two French poets who 
appear distinctly in an English reflection were neither of theui 
men whoso »-orka were capable of any far-reaching influe-nce. 
X^ng before the Restoration we have the brief popularity wluch 
attended Sylvester's translation from Du Bartas ; long after i 
the vague hinte winch Pope tf>ok from Moileau in his boyi 
'Essay un Criticism.' A lew short songs and epigrams, trans- 
lated from the fashionable vcniifierK afutr Malhrrbe, occupy the 
intenr'al. If, indeed, those who have familiarised us with the 
idea of a ' French school ' bad examined the contemporary litera- 
ture of France, they would at once have seen that diis inlluentx* 
was imaginary. For the truth is, that France, during the earlier 
part of the seventeL-nth century, was distractcfl by civil war am 

• We have heard that, iturinj? the Inat yvtn of s life ffwnt id noble otodin,; 
Mr. nalbm «iiiploycd himiteU' in colli-vliuf; nist«rialt for a Hiitorf of PtaUw 
Opininn daring Ihu ^ghtevuilt Crntury. it U niucli to be detirml that, if 
pAftioa of ihis was (oi wc ln-licvi-) mmmiltrd to pa|Mr, ii mifthi bo ghren lo 
■world— to ihow, ire should nither wy. who are auffifieiitly aboTe lh« «« 
unislitivs aoil |Kkrti«iwhips to Tuloe ' the one wvight and tlie oac iprasttir,* Ihi 
jast judginetit and htgh-hcarced palrioiUm hy which, ■.■vi-n more than by hh ~ 
knnwlcdi^e acd insight, that emiiu-iit Eugliiihmau vtu dittuigniriiwl. 

eagtged 




My 
tbi 




frovi Dryden to Chwper. 149 

engagtsd in that downward process which at the close threatened 
to leave nothiDg in that nob]e country between the huts in 
which the peasantry starved and the palaces where the Great 
King was adored with almost Oriental adulation. Hence, 
after the cold polish of Malherbe, a long interval occurs until 
non-dramatic poetry was revived, by curious contrast, in the 
classicalism of Boileau and the naivete of La Fontaine — writers 
who can hardly be said to have more affected England than 
England them. Nor even in the drama is the connexion much 
closer. What likeness lies between the charming delicacy of 
Racine, and the rampant coarseness, the Spanish exuberance, 
of Dryden ? between the fine spirit, the high poetic tone, the 
deep and subtle characterization of Moliere, and the clever cari- 
catures of debauched courtiers and countrypeople in Congreve 
and Wycherley ? When our dram^ists exhibited excellence, it 
was not as children of Spain or France, but as countrymen of 
Marlowe and Fletcher ; and it must be confessed that their faults 
were not less native. 

Some theories on Poetry — in fact, the first crude attempts at 
criticism — were the only distinct post-Restoration loan from 
France. Frmch writers, now as forgotten as Rymer, who formed 
his treatise on them, had introduced that pseudo-classical spirit 
which took the laws for verse (two thousand years after Aristotle) 
from the mistranslated and fragmentary treatise in which tliat 
great critic had imperfectly put tc^ether, not an Art of Poetry', 
bat a few interesting deductions from the Drama of his own age. 
Even the views thus formed, we find, from the curious notes pro- 
served by Garrick,* were disputed by Dryden, with arguments 
diat do more credit to his national feeling than to his taste or 
knowledge ; nor, except ' Cato,' was any play we know of con- 
tracted after the French rules. 

We diink then ^t the epithet * French School ' is as little 
applicable to our poetrv from Dryden to Pope as the title 
*Angaatan Age* to Addison's cfmtemporaries. Yet the name 
maika a change cf style so deep as to appear, if typical writers 
like Spenier and Pope are compared, almost generic Even if 
we take poets at less distant internals, the difj^rence in manner 
between rlerrick and Sedley (contemporaries during nearlv half 
dieir lifetime t) i> like the difference which we often pifrctrivc 
in oar Museums, between the fossils of two contiguous strata. 
Yet, nnlike as they may seem, to the geologist's ere they are 
closely related by links lying perhaps in other r^ions, or by his 
knowledge of tiie physical causes which induced consecutive 

* Prntcd at dw cad of Jobown't ' lift of Drvdcs.' ia Chtlmen'i I'otU. 
t Hcsriek, 1991-1«T4; Sedkj, 1C39-1T01. 

formations. 



150 



English Poftrtj 



jiirmntinits. Turning from 0»f superficial afjencie* which Mnke 
n first ti\\:\iX — what are tht" lajger undfilviup Inwi which (^vprnrd 
Uiia pn>^n's» in pootrv? — laws in which we shall find tlir tniei 
history of chanj^cs not less interesting' rikI importnnt thnn th 
traiuition from the Mollusc to die VcrtcbrntP. There if a rcftl' 
rpscIl]blaoc(^— onr even closer thnn has hecii iuiaftiiRfl — WtweeiL; 
our jwist-Kestomtion pocirv awl that of France. Bui the g 
of this rcDOinblaiico lies in the whole lone of niiml that the \rnH: 
of centuries was titen crentiii}* tliroiighout all the couiitrti'S i 
Europe which enjoyed any mental fi-eedom. The sixtecjith cc; 
lury witnessed the outbreak afrainst the intollectnal and mo 
system of the middle aj^s. The seventeenth was that m wbic 
(he urw opinions gained stability and a fixed sphere in pol 
tics; and having accomplishe<l this— in the Tliirtv Vears' Wa 
the civil disturlHinces in France and England, and the extiucti 
of jipanish power in the Netherlands — the same spirit of bol 
Doiibt and Inquiry- ad*-anccd into remoter regions of chou|Etht, 
tmnsfonned itself into new infiuences. Witliin this century — 
skett-li in the fewest lines a revolution which has never vet bee 
drawn in completeness — we find Astronomy revealed hvCinlih*a^l 
Descartes, and Newton; Anatomy by Harvey ; Ilvdn»iitnt!cs bj^ 
Boyle; Mathematics by Napier, Kepler, lirigj^ Desrartes, nndj 
otliers ; the beginnings of Botany ami Geology under Tournefort, 
Ray. and Bumet ; tlie first systematic recognition of science by th< 
foundation of the Academy of France and the Royal Society of Eni 
land. None of diese noble pursuits can be without nu influence 
literature ; but in literature itself we find the same spirit — rr 
sented in philosophy by Bacon, Pascal, Malebraiu-be, Desrartrs, 
Leibnitz, Hoblys, and Locke; in language and scbol.-(r&hJ|) \rf 
Scldcn, Pocockc, Grotius, Voss, Groiwvius, and Bentley: n 
should it be overlooked that to this century belong at once 
writings of the Casuists nnd of Baylr — men who, starting fro 
tlie opposite points of Credulity anil rif Scentielsm, en<led tn the 
same attempt to reduce under system the 'obstinate (|uu«tionings' 
to which the mind of man could no longer find in aniJiiirii 
nnd tradition satisfactory answers. We have not here 8|)acc 
exemplify in detail the tangible influence exercise*! by 
movement over Poetrv, although the special traces, in the fo 
of agrecmenl or antagonism, are clearly written on the works of 
Cowley, Dryden, Butler, Roscommon, Prior, Swift, Addiu 
Pope, and almost every- versifier of the age. What we wou 
point out is, the common bond that united these writer* wi 
the many modes of knowledge to which new avenues wi 
tlien opened. Tliis may be summed up in unc word, the 
of Criticism. A truly noblo confidence in the powers man 

recctv 



from Dryden to Cowper. 151 

received from his Creator led the serious men of the time to 
doabt, not only the results, but the methods followed by their 
predecessors in pursuit of Truth — to define more clearly what 
fields of inquiry are free to man, and to recognise that the 
Columns of Hercules, if anywhere, were in regions very far 
distant, — to inquire, analyse, and define. How this high-hearted 
spirit, which had already produced in France such brilliant 
aiid enduring effects, was there repressed, is matter of history : 
it is one of the few triumphs of the unlettered and vicious king 
snmamed the Great by cruel irony. Bnt we need not pursue 
the subject, except in reference to our own country. For, this 
tone of thought once fully taken up, England, during the greater 
portion of the eighteenth century, seemed strangely to resume her 
isolation, and work out her problems for herself. The seas, 
bridged for a time, closed round he» again, and the course of our 
poetry was directed almost entirely by internal influences, until 
Scott and Coleridge, looking abroad with the insight of genius, 
rediscovered the European Muses for us in Schiller and Goethe. 
Let us now examine bow the predominance of this critical 
spirit necessitated the great change from the ancient to the 
modem style. It was die glory of our Elizabethan poets that 
they clothed in verse not only the aims and passions of their own 
time, but the main poetical traditions of the middle ages, over 
whi(^ they were able to cast back one last glance as the world 
swept on and quitted that stage for ever. It was, as we have 
wen, their defect that, living in an inexperienced age, they were 
not only unable to discover in all cases the fit form and style for 
each subjeirt, but that — hampered by models not fully onderstood, 
and led away by false foreign lights and the desire to display 
iogenuity and leaming-^they fell into the g^ver faults of conceit 
in exjnression and caprice of thought ; that they were unable fully 
to break in the language to poetry, and are hence full of ob- 
scurity ; lasdy, diat their own prodigal power led them to neglect 
that fine finish and perfection of work which, like the polish on 
marble, at once sets off and gives duration to Art. The recapi- 
tulmrifm of these peculiarities supplies the key to the reaction 
which occupied their successors. To give clearness to language 
■nd phdnness to thought ; to insist on the vast importance of Fmm 
and of Finish ; to bring down poetry, as Socrates was said U* 
lave attempted for philosophy, from heaven to earth ; to make 
her cftpftble of representing not only common life, but the interests 
of the day in science, and speculation, and politics ; to try what 
modeiaritm and subdued colour might do for this art, as the 
former age what could be effected by glow and by enthusiasm : 

this 






ihU waft tlieiv vucatioii. It would be impossible, iwe think. 
deny the lofty purpose of this aim. or to overmtc its usefolnrss. 
So far from brinp agtiiiist tin* spirit of poetrv, the tpialitips whii-Ii 
lliey soug;ht to introdrice had flistin^uiiihnl nhnost all ^irat 
writers. Who hoMs tlin tnirror tu the whole lifr of man with 
more tonatancy than Homor? — who more lucidly clear than 
Sophocles? — who, to judfre from niicient accounts, combined so^ 
much genius with so much reflection of tlie manners of the ilny™ 
ns Arrhiloclius? — who unitcil ^intn; with satiie so iikilfully as 
Aristophanes, sjK>ak!nf; for himself in priKluctiuns happily extant if 
— Nor, to quit tiiai gifted race whose works, 

be they what they may, 

Are yet tlie fountaiu-UHht of all our day, 
Are yet a moMer-Ught of ull tnu- soeiug, — 

do later poets, Catullus, Horace, and Dnnte, fail to present the 
5nmc qualities. Yet these characteristics are on the whole absent 
from our noii-ih^matic Elizabetlian verse. Their successors bad 
thus full scope for the revolution they effected ; nor were they 
unconscious of their purpose. * Conceit is to nature,' says Pope, in 
an early letter, ' what [laint is to beauty. There is a certain majesty 
in simplicity which is far above all the qunintneiis of wit,' No 
one will assert that this great poet was eminent in the best simpti* 
city ; but from faults oi obscurity and conceit, from ofleetatiun 
in thought, ami from trick and play oti words, be and the writers 
of his time are not only free themselves, but (whilst their influ- 
ence lasted) freed our litt^ratnrc. Compare the style of Dryd 
the leader in this ehniiffe, in his youthful * Annus Mimbilis* s 
in his * Fables.' Or take Cowley's compliment to a girl- 
Can gohl, alas ! with thco comparo i 
Tho Kun that umktiB it 's not sa fair ; 
The Bnn, which can nor mako nor oror soo 
A tiling £0 btjaatiful or thee, 
lu oU the jourueys lie dues pass. 
Though tho ka served Itim for a lookiug-ghuw ! 

It may be safely said, we believe, that verses in this artificial 
style would have gained little honour after lt)GO, and fifty ,>ca. 
later would have Ix-vn an im|Kissibi1itv. Close anil clear 
ing in verse, again, if not first bnmglit into our poetry by Dri-dm,' 
was, in liis hamU. lutrried to » |>erfection rarelv since ei|unl]rd, 
Davies' ' Immorialitv of the Soul' has been bv partial critics 
reckone*l amongst the Elizabethan glories; yet a comparison will 
hardly leave room to doubt that his style is diffuse, prosaic, and 
inferior in the proper f|unlities of didactic verse to 
Dryden. From thoughts of heavwi, he savs — 



_ from Drydeit to Cotcj/er. • 1 53 

the bettor hooIb Aa oft dospiHo 
The l)i>d>''B ilcatb, and do it oft desiro ; 
For wbeu on grotmd tbn hunlon'd Indaiicc llC^ 
The DUipty iwit is lifted up the higher. 

But if thii hcMly's death the huuI nhoulil kill, 
The death mttst soede against her nutiiro be ; 

And wore it ho, nil souIh would fly it niiU, 
Fur Katuru hat«K aud kLuus htir L^uutrary. 

Doubtless all sonls hnvo a tsannvinf; thonght ; 

ThcN-'fore ijf doath wo think wit)i (luiui miud ; 
But if wc think of being tnm'd to nought, 

A trombliiig horror in our souIk we Bnd. 

Comparr* witli tlits snine IincSi, unci? well known, and deserving 

alwavs to be WJ, — 

Hu|)u humbly, thtm ; with tmmbling piniimH mur; 
Wait the great teacher, Dcatlt, aud God wloro. 
What future bliss, ho giTes not tliee to know, 
Uut givcG that ho{Hi t4> Ittt thy bluitaiiig nnw. 
Hopv springa elemnl in thv human breast ; 
Man never Is, hut always To be ble«t : 
The aonl, oiieafiy and coitfimid frmn hnmo, 
itL«ts and cxpatiateH in a life to comt. 

Lo the pour Indian I whotie nutntur'd mind 
SeeM GikI m eluuds, or huant Iiiin in the wind ; 
His i»eul proud «cieuco never tjiugbt to stray 
Fm ait the Bolar Walk, or Milky Way : 
Tet ainiplo Nature to hih h»t|R; has given. 
Behind the clond-topp'd hill, an humbler limvon ; 
Some safer world in (Icpth of wood^ onibraced, 
Some happier inland in the watery waste. 
To be, eont4zntK his nntuml demrQ ; 
lie asks no angel'fi wing, no Reraph'/ fire, 
But think». admitted to that e>|ual sky, 
His faithful dog nhall bear him company. 

And if the nvidcr now mils tii mind the passaffc in which the] 
love of life is dwelt on in Cray's * Elegy,' ho will sec how >ii«t a^ 
goiu it has been to uur poetry to |>rss through the critical pro- 
cess, to be compelled to liiink clearly and brieBy, to finish accu- 
mlely, to take up into itself, in a word, the best elements of 
prose. Let imagination ami fancy have their due honours ; but 
bean comme la prose will always Ix> tlie last and highest praise of 
ihe best i^M'try. Excepting the two or three greatest men, neitheri 
tlie Eliznbetlian age, nor that which followed, combineil all the] 
rsential t|ualLties uf this art. But the faults and tlie merits of 
each are set against tlie other, and a more complete form of poetry 

was 




1 



was only rcmlercd possible by the transit thnnigli Uiesit succr>ssi 
reactionory stages. 

As an cssentini aid in tbo process by vbich books are fitted to 
train and to rcpirsent the national character, this movement in the 
form or technical manner of verse can hardly be overrated. But 
form atui contents arc inseparable in art, nml the chnn^c in 
regard to subject and mode of thought is not less marked in tlie 
post-Restoration developmrnt. It was a neressary rntuUtion iif 
progress that poetry should not only intn«]uce the critical spirit ■ 
into the style and Btructtiro of verse, but into the matter treated. ■ 
Much of what has been condemned as levity or even as irreli- 
gion by critics who overlooked the jrcneral circtim stances of that 
age was simply the random effort of an inquiring spirit not yet 
trained by experience, but conslrnined to a just pmtrst against that 
fainthearted and sentimenUil nntiquarianism of which we find 
traires in Herrick, Herbert, I>onnc, Crashaw, and other writers of 
the first half of the seventeenth cpjitury. Here, as on most other 
points of advance, we find Dryden taking the lead which was 
natural to his powerful and fertile mind, alUiougli here, it must 
Ijc owned also, he seems rather to give the literary judgments of 
a rtfiuly-witted gentlemnn than to ^low the firm grasp of science 
ur theology which we find in Lucretius and Duiitc. Kxamples 
arp contained in his Epistles to Dr. Chnrlcton and Lonl Ko&- 
coromon. Cowley's nolde address to I''rancis Bacon will be 
known to many of our readers. It should be compared with 
Alitton's half-unwilling recognitiun of Galileo's astronomy and 
with Butler's satire ngainstthe Royal SocietVi petulant and petty, 
as a pn)nf !i(iw decisively Science had now begun to pass into 
Song. Amongiit further specimens more or less philosophical 
and critical we may name Roscommon's ' Essay on Ttansloted 
Verse,* Pomfret's 'Reason,' I'ameH's * Hermit,' Addison's 'Ac- 
count of the Poets,* Shcliiold's * Lines on Hobbos,' and Prior's 
* Alma ;' until the school of Dryden is worthilv clo»c«l by Pope 
in tliosc striking 'Kssays,' for the contradictions and semJ-sonhis- 
tries of »vliicL tlie amazing difficulties of the subject sliould be 
rather held accountable than the poet. After tlits time other 
general changes, to be noticed in their order, m^god this style in 
Vmi eomnmnly spoken of ns the Didactic style of the last centurr^J 
or in the Fables which from 1700 onwards were for sixty of^ 
seventy years a fashionable element in puetrv. 

We are necessarily unable to touch on more than a few of ibft 
points in which this resolute cRbrt to make poetry the clear ex* 
poncnt of the leading thoughts of the day was exhibited, fiat 
the attempt in other directions is equally marked — we should 
rather say, the spirit of the age forced itself equally on verse — in 

such 



d 



from Drtjdtn to Cowptr. 



155 



5ach writings as Drydcn'i clever * Art of Poetry ;' in tlie |M>litical 
5atirf>» whrrp he iK easily supreme : in the social satires by whirl 
Pope plai«<l hiniKeir at least on a level with his master ; in 
more slririly Whig .inilTory [xjeniB of Tirkell, Swift^ and Defoe j 
in the useful if not emijiently successful translations wluch from 
the days of the * Virpil ' Rradually supplied uneducated reader* 
with some knowletlpe nf old unattainable excellence. Why so 
much of tli« poetry here glnncefl at is known only to those who 
have rer(^ni»Hl that acquaintance witli the idAo/p poetry of Kng:- 
land is essential to the fair training of an Kn^'lish mind, we shall 
presently notice ; bore, as final proof how much we owe to our 
own nndercsti mated Restoration Schoo], we will point out the 
fate of iK>ctry nmoug'rt a nation n«rt less natni-ally pifted tlian our 
own botli with tlip tnie genius of wmg: and the true genius of 
progress, but in which the critical spirit underwent a too sue- 
ceosful repression. 

For in Italy, ai in Kngland, ixietry. ha\-in^ in the Middle, 
Apes piven birth to a few works of high excellence, had Uti 
dormant till the movement of the IGth century. What the 
Klirahctlwn writers were to us, Ariosto nnd Tnsso were then to 
the South — imliHMl far inwe, for their fnniR was Kurnpenn, the 
fntne of our poets confincil tn an island separated from Kurnpn 
by the political results of the Reformation. Hut whilst witlt ns 
Poetry went reioicing on her ^vay, rcBccting nccutatoly the 
jrn>wthof knowledge and experience as wo pass {rvnn Shnkespenre 
through Miltr>n to Dryden and Pope, and drtrrmined at all riski. 
not ti> nuit hold of the world as it was, Piwtry in Italy sufTercdj 
the blignt which, from causes lying far lark in her history, »j 
loon oTcrspread the land and ruined the lair proiiyse of the CVn^i 
Cento. Fatal influences, of which the treatment of Galileo 
the moat significant example, triumphed orer the free growth 
the human mind on that soil where, as the first of its trul 
modern poets said, ' the plant Man grows so vigorously ;' spiritual I 
■ml temporal tyranny tlid their utmost to nrpress diought tn 
ever)' njihere. Any activity of intellec:t tliat survived, |N;trified, 
tnd wasbfl itself in a ctmnge imaginative pedantr)'. We have 
already ileacribed the poetry of Tasso and Ariosto as essentially 
niTVSjKtiive : their successors, little read and not deserving many 
Tmders, siwm lost all hold on the mind of Italy and »f I*)unipe 
by rt'decting only the leameil trifling of the academy or the 
cloister. Their names are s;(-nunymous with false taste, and 
weakness of thought^ and classical study misapplied. The 
titles of the chief works of Marini, the popular poet of the day, 
are significant of that ditmstrous period of Italian reaction — thei 
' Adonis ' and the * Slaughter of the Innorents.' Kven these 

names 



nmnus will be unfdiniUar to many readers ; the names of luccecd 
tng ptietns are practically utiknown until that long sleep under 
the bigot and the despot was broken by the passionate music of 
Filicaja, by the harali trumpet-call of Alfieri. E jm .... 

Why is it then — to re?turn home — that a tone of censure is 
cumnionly, and on the whole with considerable justice, applied 
to the poets, who were not onlv called iin|)eriously by ct'cnts to 
perfonn a certain work, but performed it with so much ability? 
Tlic present distaste for these writers arises in part, undoubtedly, 
Ironi men- prejudice, ijfuorancc, and reaction. But still wc are 
compelled lo a^k, why is Hallain*s sentence true, that the reign 
of William 111., the central |ierio(l of the school, Drydcn ex- 
cepted, is 'our nadir in works of imagination'? We think the 
main reason is invulve<l in the nature of the very work then 
undcrtiiken. To bring literature under the critical spirit wai 
essential, if it was to march evenly with the ailvancc of 
thonght, There is, however, a sense in which criticism ami 
inquiry, although the necessary preludes tj» growth, are themselves 
rather deatrurtive or Ktationarv than creative. But we feel above 
all things that creation is the proper sphere of Art. Agiin, 
although poetry, when neglected as Art, nms almost always into 
diffuseness and rxlravngance, yet the conscioii.i study iif technical 
ixtints, the reference to Art as such, have often a dislienrtening 
and chilling cfTpct. We wish for results, not means — forgetting 
that consideration of mejtns is at times essential to tlic result 
desired. Many must have felt this even in the case of one whoH 
combined judgment and crcativenesa in so high a degree nsGtiethe.^ 
Milton ilefiufd jMiptry ns 'simple, sensuous, and pnssionati'.' Of 
these elements, it was simplicity alone (taken in a wide sensi', as 
implying the pursuit of rnitli besides clearness of expression) 
which the post-Restoration writers aimed at. It is, however, indis- 
putable that natural description, an<l the predominance of inili- 
vidual feeling (sensuousness), and most of all the passions them- 
selves, form the grc-it hulk of what the world always liHiks for ijt] 
simg. It would not W just to our writers to say that they 
entirely suppressed these elements in favour of th«we which cott-' 
licet |K>ctry with thought and inquiry. But, finding in the ]& 
their chief work and interest, they were led to scparat*! the 
imaginative provinces too decisively from tlie rest. They isi>- 
lated, as we see in their works, the ode, or song, or tmllad ; and 
in part, by consequence of this separation, they met wJlh no very 
eminent success in thesL- num- stiictly iMJCtical regions. It ll 
however, easy to understated why JJryden's ' Alexander's Feast 
wu once held *lhc finest ode in the language.* If compuod 
with Spenwi^s 'Epithnlamion' or Milton's * Nativity/ it has & 

cundensatitHi, 



I 
I 



(HI, 



from Drydm to Oncper. 



197 



condensation, a ilirectness, n rleameas in form, a straightforward] 
power of phrase, aiiil dramntic cliamrtpr, wlufrli not nnlj made' 
It a renl advance, Imt, uiiiti^l w'lOi it* vitrour nnd rpwmiinre, ' 
canc<?ale<I its deficiencies in imaginative force, praci-, and tnithi 
of |»fision. Let the reader take the poems just named, with 
Collins* 'Passions,' Gray's 'Bard,' Shelley's 'Ode to Liberty,* 
Wartlsworth's on ' Immnrtnlity,' and mark in these, or similar 
specimens, tho splendid course uf nur lyrical pietr}'. We liQve, 
nrst, simple music and jKUssioii iti S]>enser ; deejwr times and 
vfider range in Milton ; then the clearness and greater com- 
pletion, ihouph less sntislWctory executicm, of Drydnii ; the full 
IvricAl sweetness and variety, the perfect finish, of CotHus and 
Grav ; lastly, the union of what is hest in these qualities, witH 
D finer insiirht and sweeter depth, in tlic jioets whose* names araj 
ihe household delights of a favoured generation. 

The predominance of the didactic ami critical tem]>er is, in 
onr view, tlie main n-ason of the imperfect interest which llu) 
poetry of the period muler disrussion awakens. Hut aniritlier 
rposon, intimatt^Iy connected with this, must be noticed, as, lying 
on the siirnLTG as it were of style, it lias been a subject of fre- 
quent censure. This is the prevalence of a false and shallowj 
classical tone — often iffuorantly ascrilM*d to the jwst-Restomtiot 
writers as a peculiar mark, nlthoufrh it in fact colours lilnKlisl 
poc^try fftjui tlie days of Wyat and Surrey. Vet there is n note- 
worthy distinction between this early classicalism and that which, 
from Dryden's ' Sylvia the fair * to the * Clarinda, mistress of my 
soul * of Burns, infects, so far as our experience goes, every poet 
from 1500 to ItfOO, with exception of that very small number of 
true scholars — Milton. Colliiis, and Gmv: can a fourth lie, 
ruldetl ? — who used ancient mater iaU as the iincienls mighl 
themselves have used them. The early classiralisui ix so und< 
fuied in character, sn coloured by the imaginative and personatj 
tone then prevalent, that it hardly aifects us with a acns« of cod*1 
Bcious imitation, except where mythological or pastoral names! 
jiU" on the reader with pedantic associations. It is very ofleni 
simply a continuation of that |M'cidiar meilla>val classical ii>m 
iu)|>elled by which ("haucer in his ' Troilus,' or Sjienser in his 
' Epittialamioii,' unconsciouslv reproduced the spirit that, in Art, 
clothed the warriors of tlic ' Iliad " in tJie armour of the crusjulcrs. 
Examples occur in Shakespeare's (sirlicr plays:' — 

Gallop ftpaoe, yoo fiery-footed steeds, 
Towards Pbdebn^ nuanon : such a wiiggonor 
Ah Phai'ton would whip yoii to the wcwt, 
And bring in cloudy night immediately. 

With 



Kngli$X Poetry 

With ih\a clinrminfr imlrtftif of Juliet rontraat latrr rlRsiiimliRii 
in its dinVn'rit slnt;es. Orvden thuft colcbratej Jnntrft II.: ho 
coin]Mres him to Hercules ; but let that pas«:— 

EView then n muiiarch, Hpuu'd f<jr ■ tlirciiiQ I 
Alcidc« thus hiR nice hcgao ; 
w O'er infnacy ho Bwiftly run ; 

W Tlio fatun> god at first vnu moi% than man t 

m Duigcn and toils and Juno's Iiatu 

m Ev'd o'er hie cmdlo Uy in vrait, 

m And thoTu hu gmppled &r>A iritli Fate. 

y 111 hint ]'<:>iui^ luuidB the hiiwiiif; toiAkcs he pre«t, 

So QMiiy yru tho deity confoit &c. 
Nexttho laureate Howe's birthdav otie, in 171G: — 
: Quoou of odours, fiagiimt May, 
For tltis hoim, this hiijipy (hiy, 
Janufl 'nith the double lACo 
^ Sball to Ihoo ixtsigii his plaoo ; 

B Tliou shalt nilt! m\h better gnvM : 

m Time from thoo shiUI wait his doom, 

B And thou shalt load tho your for ovary ago to como. 
W Fiurcftt month, in Oiesiu- iirido thc«. Ac. 

Gray's ' Address to Puetry ' miirks a mure profound schulurship, 
after which the worn-out Roman clnssicalism died praiJuAlly. 
awuY through a series bt' fcohle versifiers, until, in Bums, it 
fliuhed out I'ur n moment in strange eontmst with his own paro 

uutiinml style : — 

yrben biting BMt»s, fell and douro, 
fibarp-shircrs thru' thu leaflcM how'r, 
Whou PhinliiiH fjirs a xliort-lived gUnr'r 
Far south the lift- 



pa ro 

i 



Wh&t n sinfTulnr union of Ayrshire and Ausonia! 

This |»><:uliiir mannerism was in itself un ofter-^vowth from 
till" inniulst- towards im|uiry and advance which underlies all 
t>t]»ers in the liti-ratuiv alter 1060, and which we luive traced tu 
the great general movement of the Reformation and Renaissuice 
period. Men turned to the writers of Greece and Rome, as pre- 
senting models in st\le of unequalled perfection, and still mor«oa 
acc<>unt of the noble cliDracteristics of frei' tlnmght and uiuhnc^kled 
pxpresiiuu' which, far beyond any other, distiu^uiikh tbe clnssicnl. 
fntm the medicrval literature. But the want of Ciiinpamtivo 
seienre in history, philosophy, and lanj^ua^e — of which mc ara 
now only lie^inning to see that it points to issues not less nif>* 
nK-ntous than those of the Ctm/ur-cerj^o itself — rendered the earlier 

t-ri 



from Dryden to CsKyj**". 



IS9 



critical scbniiuvhtp, espRciallv in all matters of Art« prcmatare 
■nil pnrtinl. It Is a iluubtful point always liow Car mtxlfls ranj 
be tuml without mk of tijtt Uviii>( ilcatli uf iitiitatinn ; but heraj 
the tnottrU were often ill'choscn, anil always im|)(^rfftctly under- 1 
stood. Hcnci? tiip deference to ancient writers — often rheto-l 
ricians of Becaod-mlc merit — wliich is su piomiuent In English 
portly from tbo time of Charles I., was, in tlio main, nn 
injurious superstition. The enrlier ami swn-ter ElizulH'tliua, 
classicaJism rtsohcd us in part fri>m Cbaucor and Uis age, in part] 
from Italy. That taste, however, struck nu permanent ruot|( 
pwung away with other concf its and fancies under the sterner 
tbon^hta aroused by civil disscnston. Milton is a solitary 
fxamptc of the piim Italian stylo of scholarship, tlcrived by 
himself, in arconlanre nith his inajratie anrl self-iHoIated nature, 
from personal studv ^lul from residence iii tlic tiuutli. But tlm 
renewed or modern ctassicaltsm was unhappiiy derived from 
that country in which, through inborn antagonism of spirit, the 
aorient writers lurve been less understood tlian in any other 
rcfpoa of Europe. In the liaoils of the French critics of the 
■eventernlh and eighteenth centuries tlic greatness of Circek and 
Homan thought disapjH-ars — th<-- simplicity becomes baldm-Bt,j 
the taste frivolity, the rules of style jiedantry. 'ITio imaginatioaj 
of Shak(*speare himself could hardly conceive a mind mt 
upposMl to the Athenian mind than IJoileau's. Yet Roileau 
the dictator of French taste. It must, however, here suflice to' 
Ipvo this general indication, cloHing our mmnrks nn the first 
portion of onr siiliject witli a few words on another charge 
igainst the post-Restoration literature. The censure wliich 
Mcrihcs n peculiar effrontery of manners and cynical indecency 
to these writers is hanlly bftt<T founded than that wlirch 
clasars tlicm all as of the * French School.' It can Ih; no 
secret to nnv student of our older litemture that a delight ia 
coarseness (often sumamed plainspeaking of honest feelings), odtii 
oi*er-frredom in tone, are no special heritage of die poets iK'twiHm 
DryUen and I'opc. The contrast often drawn between the plain- 
Om of the Klizabnlhan ago and tlic levity of the Restoration is 
Dot much more than a moiln of expressing the superficial diHi-r- 
tSK^ of then fasliionable mnnnr-rs. In fact, the gri-at mass of our ' 
nnn-^lrainatic jioetry through the whole period is jtetfectly fitted I 
still iirr) ini fills pufTtapie, — could it iioy loDger attract such reader*. ! 
II. Asdorint; tbesisty year&dating from 11)60 Englinh tlioiight, 
and hence EngUsliiJuetrv, had been mainly nflccted by general inllu- 
CQces acting on all Europe, ho during tlw next sixty England 
in a great degree 8lon<l njmrt from lu-r ncighl^ours. At fir»t 
the «levcIopmenl of the country on the re-establish moot of |>e,ire 

occu.\tvcd 



Erylislt Poetry 

occupied all ntteiition. Tlicn fidlnwrd anotlirr lime of war, but 
of war mrritKl iiii in iHstant lands, lit first nitli suttt-ss, latrr widi 
nntifinnl liiiii) illation. iVlciiinvliiU- tlic course of things in Kumpc 
was rapidly It-iiding tu that viuleot ntnig'^le betwet^u tiie old wavs 
of thoupht and the new which rxprcsBe<l itself in the first I'Vcnch 
Rcvohitioii ; and pven I>eforc the reaction of distinrt t'dntJncDta] 
influences set in, the same eoulirst vtas unconsciouslj raised in 
England betwcf-ii die stationary and the advancing elements in 
it*lt):fion, trade, agriculture, and at last politics. The tiationul intel- 
lect, which during the first half of this pcriwl hatl been exer- 
cised in the moral and philosophirnl speculations of the Deists and 
their antagonists, now (|uitled tliis teni|Mirar)ly (exhausted Held. 
Turning again to matters less tlieorctical, it embodied it^iclf in 
the great tliscoverers who, stimulated and aided by French and 
German prinleccssors and contemporarie!), pushed far and wide 
the domain of science ; protluced in religion the practical revi%al 
of which the force is in full n|>eratiou yet ; in politics, the school 
of Burke and Fox; in pniiticol economy, the school of 8nuth, 
MaltliHS, and Uirardo. Inquiries into the relations between ihe 
ranks of thfi community, leading to a dpt;per experience of the 
state of the labouring classes, were a natural result of tlie«e 
adranccs; nor should it be overlooked that the growth of pro«- 
perity and wealth was accompanied by a rapidly developed lore 
of travelling which, limited at first to Kngiand, even then pro- 
ducetl a reverential love and stiuly of nature, not only renewing 
the sentiment of Chaucer and Spenser, but allying it with a wider 
survey of the landscape. 

FrejKired, according to our belief, by the labour of preceding 
poets to express nliatever in bum.in life and interests was capable 
of Metrical ntpression, Poetry reflected nil these various tendencies 
nnd made tliem iiior<5 or l(*s her own. Hence the broken and 
diversified character of the Georgian literature, the vast interval 
not only between such poets as Addison and Cmbbe, but between 
contcm])oraneous writers, between Poiie and Collins, Uums and 
Cow|)er. For it was an age niit only of sjiontaneous transition^ but 
of bidd exiK-riment ; and, as ever luLp|H>ii3, «-lien new ways are tried, 
tlie issues lo which men were working were hid from them wjtli 
more than the common obscarity. Perhaps no century since the 
Koman cuii(|uest has presented so great a change ns that which 
lies between the England at war with Louis XIV. and the Eng- 
land at war willi the First Consul of Frniice. Hence also the 
pnetrv of tliat age has an unsatisfactory clmmetcr from want of A 
uniform tone. \Vc cannot speak of it as we do of the Klixa> 
liedian ; it has not that singleness of colouring which plea»(rs ns 
in most well-markeil ages of song. Nor amidst these many 

Attempts 






from Drtfdm to Cmepcr. 



161 



Biterapts cuultl there l»e invariable success ; tliL- nt-w wns 
mixed imcitiisciuusly aiul inhuimuniouslv witli the ultl, aiul the 
old retaiaed a strange grasp over what was essentially anlike it. 
KsiK-cially ii this true of the poetic Hictiun ol' tlic last century, 
which, thiiugh from a diifercnt cause, was as unequal tu express 
•Titers' conceptions as the Elizabethan. Conventional phriuies, 
and n-itliOiein artificial style (for words often rule thoughls), dis- 
£|*-urc cver>- writer from Gay to Bums ; nor can more curious in- 
StaufX's of this conflict of manners l)c found than those with which 
the pact last named has familiarized us in almost every one of 
liis pieces. Vet this disguise of style should nut blind us to tlie 
ticw life which was <'(iiii|)eMed bv iirrsistible taws for a time tu 
ntnceal itself beneath the vesture of mannerism ; nor must it be 
forgotten that the present age has its own cunvcntiaualLties of 
diction not less distant from truth and simplicity than the cen- 
tury which pniccded it. 

VVe will name some leiuling instances nf thcsi' many roads 
attempted, iu all which xve most desire emphaticidiv to jioint out 
that poetry but followed the ways already "jiened by the spirit 
of the age. The domestic feuds of the' time when ministerial 
and parliamentary government was established appear in Swift; 
the current tlieological and moral speculation in P(i])c and 
Pamell ; the (M*are and commiTCial advance under wise Walpole 
are emtMHlied in die illdactic virrse «if Dyer an«l CJniinger, Somer- 
vile anil Thomwm ; Watts marks thir bcgimiiiig of the religious 
change of which Cowper represents the maturity. The influences 
nf Nature on Poctrv reappear in f»niy, W'arton, and Durns ; 
furei^i travelling yields its first^fruita in Goldsmith ; Gay gave 
pictures from common life, viewed from the side of sentiment, 
Ciabbc under the influence of sotial ectmomy. Xor are trares of 
the more general currents aflecdng politics and manners absent, 
nithougli lliesc cannot Im; so individually sjKcificd, and were not 
Bern in their whole strengdi before our own century. 

Having thus broadly sketched out the course of poetry from 
1720, we will discuss in more detail some principal features, 
taking tliem, so far as practicable, in chronological order. 

It is a common phrase to speak of Puik and his followers. 
Except with reference to the [wculiai: type which he impressed 
OQ the ten-syllable couplet, we think the phmse conveys an idea 
opposed to the facts. In regard to subjects ami m(Hh* of thought 
— Ut almost all Iwit the mere su|>LTficies of style — Pope it rather 
tlic last of a school than the founder of a new manner. His 
uibjects, it will be enough simply co remark, belong aluuist ex- 
clusively to theclass familiar to the post-He^tonttiou writers; and, 
niTvelloiis as is the perfection of his treatment, they present little 
\\A. \U.—j\u. 2J3. U VwA. 



182 Enffiisk Poetry 

but the consummation of jirevimis tcmlt-ncins, if wc rxrrpl the 
' Rape of the L>(K-k,* M'liirh stands single iii our litrratiirt*. Hl<j 
audietict* xnevv. tbn rlirpint and t)ie witty, uiid it iit uU tliriii ami 
iheir modes of artiiip' or thinking that his Satirei turn. Indeed 
we art) inclined to go farther, and to consider Pope as io manj 
respects the representative of a st^te Bnti()uatetl hy the lime 
liis death in 1744. For not nnl^ is he the last ctmspirnous wri 
whose genera] tone and sphere of work are drawn from rourti 
life, but he hjn;jj uutHved Oic development* in poetiy niread 
beginning. The popular sons' "s exhibited by Oay. the politici 
pamphlet of Swift, the description of Nature by Thomson, — a 
find no representation io the ptiet of Thames-side ; indeed, 
sneer (or what is meant to bn such) in ^Scriblrrus' is jmlnahl 
directed ag^ainst the 'Sfiisons.' It is not, uf course, deniiil tl 
this j^eat wTiter found some direct imitators; but (except 
regards his versifitation) those who made him their model 
now with the many antagonists whose names — names only to 
— are preseivcd in his own brilliant cuuplrts. Aroonpst iJn 
who would have calleil themaclv(!S of his school, J^hnaon 
perhaps the most distinguished; yet in the 'London' and 
• Human Wishes ' wc feel at once that we have left the courti 
ami cultivated sphere of life; or rather, tliat wc are in prescn 
of one who painted and scorned tbem from the opposite vantag&-| 
ground of noble Poverty. Parncll again — whose works Po 
edited — and Gay, who was his frieml, would have ranked theu 
selves, in the old phrase, aa * Ihiise alxmt Alexander/ Yet fro 
Parnell we might quote passages in a style gtrniTienlly distinc 
from Pope's; and m Gay's haiuls we find the rustic life forcin^ 
itself, against the author's will, into what he intended aa bur* 
lesque {Muttomls; whilst in tlie work chiefly associated with hii 
name he frankly ubnndonetl his master's ways to tell tlip career 
of Machcath and Polly. Pass un a few years, and we see the 
same law of subordination to the apiiit of tltc ago compelling 
saccessively three men who uiidi>ubtcdly looked to the author of 
the Satire* and the Essays as tbeir model for more than metre, 
to treat subjects as alien fnini Pop<? n-t the rockwork of bis Grotto 
was from the boulders of Dartinrwir or Cader Idris. Poems tuch 
as Gold-smith's * Village * and * Traveller,' Crabbe's ' Tales ' and 
'Register,' Cowpcr's ' Faith,' are not only remote from * Kloiu* 
or the 'Rape:' they are poems which, except by miracle, could 
not have been cvpri thought oi during the prevalence of tli»l 
school of which Pope is the must 6nishcd rcprcjicnlative. And 
lastly, to take timL-^ which ain nhnnst our own, what morp for- 
cible exemplification of our view could be found than that whic 
arises from comparing the criticism and the pmetice uf Bttc 

—the' 






from JDn/flen to Ci»rper, 



1(53 



— ihe bijvlsli iniTtntiuD of the ' Bards Bni! Hrvipwors/ and tlie 
mapnificpiit <»rigiiialitv of tlie 'Chiltle Ilarulir ? * Tin* disciples 
of P«p<*,* says Byron in 1820, ' w(*rc Jolmsou, Goldsmilh, Rogers, 
CampDeU, Crabbe, Giffortl, AUtthias, HnrleVi and the author of 
the ' Paradise of Coquettes.' Who this last disciple was vrc arc 
certainly ignorant ; but it may be feared that Pope would have 
grrm mm a niche, with Mayley and Matthias, in that poem 
which unu Dot ronsccmted lo the oelebrntion of j^pniua. Nothing 
but the form of verse connwts tlie five firat-naniwl with him in 
any rnU sense, and Mr. Darwin himsolf would be perplexed to 
trace the development of ' Hohcnlinden ' from the * Essay on 
Man ' or the ' Ode on St. Cecilia's Day.' — But we should not 
hmve thtmgbt it necessary to dwell on this point if the inrorrcrt 
nhnuM of tlie * school ' and ' influence ' of Pope were not so 
rreqiipnt in our critical literature. 

All would aprce that attempts in the epic and didactic stylo 
are a lending feature in the poctiy of the eighteenth century. 
Milton's — the one strictly modern poem of the kind which 
raolis with the great masterpieces of old-A-wns followed by n few 
essays tn the religious manner — Blnckmore's * Creation * and 
Prior's 'Solomon.' Tliis w.-w soon transformnd into tlie didactic, 
in accordance witli tlie undramatic and practically inquisitive 
spirit of the day, which marks strongly the subjects now chosen 
in Phillips's 'Cider' (published 1706), Thomson's 'Seasons* 
(1726), Snmmile's 'Chase* (1735), Young's 'Tlmughts* (1742), 
Akenside's * Imagination ' (1744), Dver's ' Fleece ' (1767), and 
Orainffrfr's * Siig.ir-Canc * (17G4). Tlie very titles suggest at 
oDce the new lines into which the application of rerse to actual 
life bad led lincHsh writers. Of Thomson's work we shall speak 
pmently ; it will be enough here to add that Young is the only 
on* who is strongly tinged by the tone of the * Angusbin age,' 
and that Akensidc exi'mplifies another rharactiTistic of the limn 
alrrndy noticed. With Smith's ' Phrrdra,' and the * Leonidas ' 
and *Aihenaid' of Glover, Akensidc's poetry represents the 
ailruicc of our classical scboLirship from Roman models to 
Oreck, combined with the speculative admiration of political 
liberty to which Burke, tmtil the close of his career, gave, 
npressinn in PartiamenL It Cannot he said that these poems 
hare escaped tin" common <loom of imitative works ; yet 
Akensidc possesses force and nobleness of thought, and Glover a 
fine spirit and enthusiasm which remler the conlrmporary reputa- 
tion of *Lconidn»' iiilclligibir. But in Ixjth < ases tlie themes 
chosen must Im- confessed greater than tho pods, although tlteii 
nimprfsitions deserve and reward tlic attention of intelligent readers. 
We have alrejidy ubser^-fd that much of the strictly mor&l 

.M 2 \«we 



it>4 £Hffluk Poetry 

vcrsfl nf the pm-ifNl tfwk thn unfortunate direction of thn Ciblc 
u form n( writinjj^ wliicrh only the finnst skill and ta&tc can 
ri'det'in — if it ever bo r«Mlet*incd — fntin insipidity. On tHl 
point, and on the elaborate IjTifA] poetry, we newl not cn)u;ge J^ 
nor would tlie reader be thankful for details regurding the vast 
flood of orcasional verse, epistles, satiii-s, cpigraui&) humorous] 
niumtt%'c, and trivial dittiis and ballads, which fill our collections 
with sketches of the timo so Uvely that »ve should deeply regret 
to lose as history what is raiely of much value as song. These, 
like the fables, represent less the advancing and the moral clc^ 
ments tlian lemiHirary feelings, or heloug t(i the styh^ which wa» 
passing away. They are precious for Uhistration of manners and 
lor indications of the progress of thought, but except for such 
purposes their slumber is little likely to be broken. Indeed, the 
general knowWIge that the mass exists and fills long shelves m 
tile vast collections of Johnson and Chalmers has been a seriou* 
cause of the indifTerence towards the poetry of the eighteenth 
century. Yet it will not he doubted by those who in an im- 
partial spirit have gone, through the body of our earlier literature, 
that the amount of merely mechanical verse bore as large a 
pi'upi>rli(m to the whole produced during the period concluding 
with (he Kestorattun as during the later jtcriod of which wn are now 
S|K'aking ; nor can we resist thf fear that tlie series embracing our 
own age — should so vast a galhering ever be made — will presfnl 
a similar aspect to the bewildered students of the coming century. 
Let us turn from the less interesting survey of the subjects in 
which tlicse pjets only imitated their predecessors to the new tracks 
of thought and manner by which tliey are eonnecled with us. 
Man, as a f^reature uf jia^sidn, had Ix-en tlie tlieme of tlie Kliza- 
bcthaa writers ; Man, in relation to intellect and to society, of 
those who followed. These, of course, arc broad general out- 
lini-a ; nor, when we refer to the eighteenth century as the first 
whifh Ix-gaii tliat free study of Nature and hnr of description 
for itself which has been carrieil to results so marvellous in uur 
own, is it to be understood, a& some have too absolutely phrased 
it, that the interests of Man are wanting in our recent poetry, or 
of Nature in tlml of the seventeenth century. Yet if we think of ■ 
such contrasts as the landscajH'of Fa|K-'s ' Paiitorals' or Addiscm'ft^ri 
' Italy ' and t!iat of Shelley's * Prometheus * or Wordsworth's^^ 
' Kudl,* we can hardly escape feeling that we have passed into 
another and a larger world, where the great elementary fcaturrs 
of the universe, *the common sun, the air, the skies*- — sources of 
so ranch happiness and of so much of that best wisdom which 
comes through happiness — are again restored to man. It is a 
cliangc which seems to give us almost a regained paradise: 
^. wheu^J 



i 



from Drjfden to Cotcper. 



165 



whpii we reach this turning-point in our literature vc arc aware, 
in the wopIs nf the immortal poet wlio of all poets xvmjxtthiKcd 
most intens«l_v ani) must widely with the soul of Nature, that 
'Spring is coming, ami Love, anrl the winged Zephyr, herald of 
8prin». runs before, and Flora, in the track of their course, scatters 
tlie whole |Kithway for us with the perfection of scent nod the 
fullness of colour:*- — 

It Ver, ot Ventu, et Yens pranaiitius imto 
Peuimtuft (^raditnr Zephyrns, Te«tigia propter 
Flom qtiibus mal*r iincspargoiia aiitc viai 
OuDcta culoribof! egrcgiis ct oduribna opplet.* 

fh. Quitting such thoughts on Natin-c and her 'Irnppv- 
^■ight,' let us descend to criticism, and examine by what' 
slow steps this glorious element of poetry was expnmled io a 
splendour Iwfore which the primitive efi<>rtii<ifaliundmlyejirs since 
imw appear ffohlp and colourless. Passing by the few hut admirahlf* 
lines of Ladv Winc'lirlsca, thi.* first distinct natural descriptions 
appear to he Thomson's 'Seasons' ( 172t}-1730), and Dyer's 
'firongnr Hill,' which (we suppose with his 'Walk *) was pub- 
Itslird in 1727. Looking to the former, we may perliajK say that 
nil real jKret has left less satisfactory poetry than Tliumsuii. His 
great work is a compromise Iietween Virgil misunderstuftd, the 
psGudn-idvlltc style of l'«>jie, the [Mmp of * Paradise L<j»t,* ami 
Lis own true and delicate observatiun of Nature. 

Gnat Bxo the scenes, with dreadful beauty crowned 

And barlnrotm wealth, tliat hw, ciicli eircliug yi^ur, 

Bctamiiig suiiH aud doublu seasons paiis: 

Kucks rich iu gums, and moantains big with mines, 

That uu the high equator ridgy rise, 

Whonoo Diany a btir»tiug stream aoriferous plays : 

l^jeetic woods, of everj- vigorous green, 

Stage abovo stago, high waTiiig nVr tim bills. . . 

Boar mc, Pomona, to thy citron groves, 

To whore tho lemon and the piercing Umo, 

With tho di-ep oraiige, glowing through tho groon. 

Their lighter glories blend. 



* Lverettnt, V. 735. W» hsre follo«»il the undonbtedlr Imp resdfaigt r»t 
Baitl«7 aad lacknuuu in the Gnl sod wcocil Wnt^. With ihp watimvnt of Uh* 
laM fthooM W ooinpared the verera of the EnglUh pout who has most iictirl> 
i^proaehed Lucrciiiu id tbia paMioostc iniensity.— tin-ami ng of a UfL- 

Iu a dell 'mid Uwny hilla 

Which the niM KU'iiiuriDur Gib. 

AdH wfi funfliiri'-, itnil Uiu Mound 

Of old forwu whotnR mimd. 

And \\w lifrht luid smell diviue 

Of «U llowcn that breathe anil shine. 

BkeOefit *Euguie8n HtlU.* 

How 



Iff6 



EngJiih Poetiy 



Hovr conventional and coM does this sonthem landscApc 
by one of our own age I bow JttUe penetrated with music or in 
the Dpirit of the Sfiulb 1 

— To burst all links of lialiit — thera to vraiklcr far away. 
Ou firom iBlADtl unto iiUanil at Iho gatewaTi of the daj. 
liArgor coiutt«U&tio(ia burning, molloir moonH and liappy tildr«, 
BmailtliB of tmpio sLiuIl' and palms in eliutor, knota of Faimdiae. 
Nover comes the tradur, nevvr fiuats au £uropeui flag, 
SlidM the bird o'er lustrom woodland, swings tuc trailer from tbo crag 
Droope the heary-hluBsom'd bower, hanga the henry-fruited trcw? — 
Snmmcr inleii of fiden lying in dork-pnrplo apherea of soa. 

Yet Thomson's once famous porm fairlv earned its rfputaiicm 
the pages are 61Ied, in hiit own graceful wonls, Mvitli uiau^ 
prool" uf recollected love;' we find Nature there, though in 
urtilicial dress; and whilst ivc can hardly rank it as a irejui 
lor all time^ see easily how great and useful its etfccC m: 
have been in its own — how unpopular amongst readers I 
in the taste of the previous generation. Pei-haps in some of hi 
too scanty l)Tical pieres wc seo the genius of Thomson in i 
sweetest form. 'Thine/ ho says, addressing Solitude with 
inimitable warmth of a genuine passion — 

Thine is the balmy breath of mom, 
Jost A8 the tlew-bent roso is bom ; 
And while meridian fervoura beat, 
Tbiiio is the woodhmd dumb roti-cat; 
Bnt chief, when evening scenes decay. 
And Ihu fninl liuidncapc avima away, 
Thine is tlie donbtful soft dtcliuo, 
And that beat hotii of musing thine. 
Great poet as he was, we may probably say with truth that 
this sentiment was to Poi>e aninti>lligible, Wc have called him 
the latest — almost llin sti]K>rannuated — survivor of the courtly 
periofl ; and it is curious to oliservo wliat country life and soti-H 
tudn appeared tu him. With his rxquisito inmy and fiiiish, li^| 
thus condoles with Miss Bloont *on ner leaving town after the 
Coronation,' 1715; — 

In some fair evening, on yom- elbow laid. 

Yon dream of tritunplia in Uio rural ahado ; 

In ponsiTe thought recall the fuioied aovsuOf 

Sea Coronations riso on overy groou : 

Before you pus th* imaginary sigfata 

Of lordfi and earls and ankos ana garter'd knighti;, 

While the spread Ua o'ersliadM your closing eyca — 

Thun (-iv't one Oirt, and all the vinon fliva : 

Tims i-niiisli Hopptrwf, coii:<uetB, and balls, 

AikI IciTo you in loue voods, or empty walk. 



from Driftlen to Cw:^>er, 



167 



Under such a poetical iHctatnr if needed rournge to pnblishtbc 
^Seasons,* wlulsl tli« fact that t]ie |>fMTn was at ooce successful 
Btaj warn uk not to uvt^restiiaato th« jirc&tig;!; of I'upc, 

Nearly ono hundml veai^ elapsed between Milton's two 
masterpieces of description and the two by Dyer already named. 
It IB obvious that the 'AUegm' and *Penseroso' were more or 
less miKlels for tlic * Oninpir Mill ' and tJie * Evening Walk ;' and, 
letting nsidf llie vastdifTLTCnce in jwnver Wlwcen tlie two writers, 
it !• remarkable liiiw little the art of landsrape drscription lutd 
cluuiecd or advanced during tlie inten'al. Like Milton, Dyer, 
in what we termed before the older method, refers every fcatura 
in the landscape to mnn nud liumnn tntorest, and, in the fashion 
of the day, muiiilizes im all hir w-rs. Wt the natural element, as 
witli Thi>m»on, is inort' prumlnent, and man bi-gins to W viewed, 
ta use a painter's pbra&e, as an acci-ssiiry fii^re. If we rntnparetl 
Millnn's poems with the sublime and gorgeous landscapo back- 
gmunds of Titian, the work of Dyer and of his contemporaries 
might be likened to Claude. Neither can frankly trust himself 
to paint Nature only, and must have some human subject as an 
ejicusr for Untlscapc — bow remote fnim tliat art which, with 
Turner ami Wordswortli, luus unsealed ftir us the inmost en- 
cbcjited fountains of natural beauty ! liut lliis consummation is 
distant at the age of whirJi wc are speaking. Poets were still 
influoaced by what to us seems an almost schoolboy style of 
classicttl criticism ; they must still view fields and forests tlirough 
a learned glass ; they are inrnjiable of a pure jtassion. Indeed, 
perhaps tlie pieces decidedly in the artificial manner are nut less 
pleasing than the further-reaching attempts of men like Thoinsuu 
or Dyer. Tiiketll's charming picture of Holland House is pro- 
"^ ily known to some readers. PaniDirs * Health ' contains pas- 
oi equal beauty : — 

Come, eonntry goddess, oomo ; qot thoti tmffioe, 
Dut bring thy mouutnin sister, Exercise. 
Call'd by tliy lovely vmon, Hhn tum-s hrj- paco; 
Her winding bora proclaims tho finish 'd chaac ; 
She moimts Ibo rocks, she Kkims the level plain, 
Dogs, hawks, and horses cruwd her early train. 
Iler bwdy fac« repels the taoning wind. 
And linos and meshos looeely float Iwhind. 
All these as mnan-i of tuil Uio fuublu sue, 
Bnt these aro h^lps to plcaeorc, joiud with thoo. 
O eoiQi!, tliou goddess r>f my rural song, 
And bring thy dnagbtcr, calm Content, nlong I 
Dame of the rnddy cheek and laughiu^ oye, 
From whoso bright preaenoe olonds of eon'ow 6y : 

for 



108 



Etifflish Pottry 



For lior I mow my walks, I pknt my bowtra, 
Clip itty Inw hndgcK, and Hiijijiort my fluweis; 
Tu vrelcumi! lior, this Kimiuiur-scat I dreet ; 
And bere I court her when hLo comes to rost. 



Annili 



the pasttinil 




ii'ectioii of this leiiriKnl landscat 
atuusas, into which as \\xp. century »ilvai)CP<l tne eclogue ^raduiillv 
faded. This Ihsbton has jiiven us a few brautiful lines from! 
Shcnstonr, and n vcr)' fpw from Hammom). They arc writen 
frer from carelessness and conceit : yet these raerita» too high \t 
be called nefrative, are not enougfh to redeem their elegies froi 
the fate which at hist overtakes a querulous insipidity. 

Near twenty years appear to have ]>asscd after the impulse ^vt 
by Thomson before the description of Nature made a furtbc 
step ; and it is rpmarkahle that this step was due to the dceppT.] 
study of nnripnt literature already ntiticeil. It is difficult U> 
mate the restrtiintm inHuence which that study had held uvi 
former poets, into what grotesqueness and licence of conceit evt 
writers such as Spenser or Oryclcn might have fallen without 
example of the exquisite moderation of Virgil and Horace. But' 
it is easy to observe the jH^datitrv and shallowness which oar 
jXH'ts tiH> often inherittMl from tliis source ; ami it was no mt 
than a fair com])easation that tiie dee]K-r scholarship whirl 
from the da}*! of Bentley had taken root in England should n»i 
enrich ns with the poetry of Collins (J74C) and Gray (1747-57) 
Few are the ports who hove received more praise from thi 
wdidiv t<i ^ivf it thau the authors of tlie ' Ode «m the Passions' 
and <if the * ICIcgv.' Vet publio taste in its last flurtiiatiim aj 
pears inclined to treat them with indiflrreace as artificial 
orerfinished. We think this opinion essentially onesided ar 
narrow ; yet it is a natural reaction. Two great moods of the 
mind in regard to poetry have always existinl, ami may lie said ti^n 
have liiHMi persimificil in the 18th and 19th centuries. To thdH 
one, s|M)ntaneous poetry, whether the work of cullivate«l men or 
not — of Shelley or of Bums — has a charm so great as to blind 
its admirers to the contrasted merits of more conscious and 
elalxirate workmnnshia On (he opposite side is a taste toQ^ 
strictly confmed to clear and Bnished exprr-ssion and too iniS 
patient of deviations from its own standard. These extremes 
hold alternate swav ; n<;r is it worth atteinptijig to decide 
which is least remote from the golden moilemtion which rcrog- 
nises tliat form and substance are not oppositcs, hut coiTelative 
expressions of ntality, and that Art iit once ililTers from and is 
the consummation of Nature ; above her in aim, and below 
in execution. These phrases, we. fear, will W tliought as India 

iiiK-i 



lU IS 

idiS 



A 



from Drytlm to Coteprr. 



IfiJt 



tinct as the extreme opinions we are combating aro plain mid 
* cbarted oat in their coarse blacks and whites.' Vt>t readers 
may be assured that only by aid of this sobriety of taste can 
they gain that {p-eat [»ift, the pure and lively appreciation which 
enjoys each phase of songj in its turn. pf>lishp<l grnco and spon- 
taneous utterancp, and is at homn npially in the ^rdens anil 
in the wild places ol' the imagination. Tht-re is a pedantry of 
naturalism, if we may so speak, no less than of mannerism ; and 
this is probably ihf exag-grmtion ajjainst which the saner min<l 
shnuld at present ^lanl itself, es]>prtin^ the day when the popu- 
lar praisf of 'freshness,' ' natun?,' 'passion,' * j;eniality,' ' hrart,' 
and Uie like, will ^;ive place to that other extreme which is at 
once so opposite and so near it. 

WV may aflbnl to pass witli a glance the accusation of 'clas- 
sical polilncss' hrou|j;ht a^i^uinst die writers befiire us, a phrase 
common in the mouths uf the very ignorant, and whii-h they are, 
unhappilv. little likelvto take the pains to rectify. Goin» mi mtw 
to the poems, it may be said, we think, that such art as thai bv 
whichGray has concentrated in the 'Klepy'a Httleworld of thought 
— tboaght at once simple and subtle, obvious yet never s<) csprcsswl 
before through all the centuries of mortality — set it widiin a natu- 
ral landscape of consummate beauty, an<I peopled it with l!viti<; 
human figures — is an example of what the mind can do most 
Ijcrfecttv ill following: the processes of Nature. ' Such art. ag-ain, 
as Cullins lias shown in tlic brilliant i>eraonifi cation of the Pas- 
si«ms, such as we find in Gray's ma^ificenl summary nf l-lnslisli 
history, s(j accurate in its picturesqucness, so poetical in its in!>ight, 
is one of the very rarest successes which human wit can rearh. 
Let us turn again to those few paj^s, familiar to many from the 
norscry. papcs in truth which to not a few have made (such are 
the illusions of genius) no small portion in the swpftest iinagpry 
of chitdl]04Ml, and admire how much the mncentratinn and caro 
of these fine artists has ^iv<>n us in so little, what variety in sidi- 
ject, what brilliancy yet what mo<!c8ty in the colouring — what a 
high^ manly, and honestheartcd tone in the sentiment : — 

See the uTutch that long hse tost 

On tlie thorny be<l nf pain, 
At length repair his vigour lost, 

And breatho and walk again : 
The mettnost floweret of tho vale, 
The niDploBt note tbat swells the gale, 
The cooiuon finn, the air. the sldeH, 
To him aro itjK'uiiig Panulisu. 

Even so, fr<»m the over-elaborate scntimentalism of this aj^e, 
from tlif! kt/aterica jtoisw (let us say) of ' Aurora Leigh,* even 

from 



I 



170 English Foetjy 

from the tUmly-fashionod forms that haunt the rltaptodieg of 
Sbclley iti his longer works, wc return with pli-asurc heightened 
by contrast tti the sane sobriety of the * Elcffy/ to thir gray loveli- 
aeu of the * Ode to Evening.' Ars ionffo, vUa brevit. VVe are fl 
tliankfid to those who, working in o different spirit from most 
pufts of our century, under limitations nnd deHciencies easiij 
reroguised, by fxiuencc — and the genius which Li patience — 
created these perfect forms for Uie delight of our best moment); 

LUcc tliat of their predecessors in general, the Iniubeape 
description of these writers is tntimatclv blended with humnn ^ 
feeling ; it serves as u trxt for a rdlectivc murallty. Thus, in the H 
fide from which one stanza has just been quoted, the changes of ™ 
nature form the parallel aud the contrast together to the vicissi- 
tudes of human enjoyment ; in Gray's ' Spring ' (an earlier work) 
the Icjson of the year is drawn, but with less skill and subtlety ; 
in the ' Elegy ' the living and the landscajx! elements are mixed 
with the skill of Titiau ur of GainsbtJniugli, Description 
appears in more purity in Collins's ' Evening,* tliough even in 
this the final nuto is of 'fancy, friendship, science;' but ths 
simpler daylight lnn<lscnpc to which 'our own poeu' have accus- 
tomed us was not cunspicuouslv exliibitct) before the a|ipearaBcr 
of (Joldsmlth's 'Tmveller' (1704) and 'Village' (1770). In 
each of these M'orks we find the human figure and the aspects of 
Xatui'o uniteil, indeej, in ono picture of admirable harmony ; 
but the modern character, if we do not mistake, is seen in the fact 
that the poems impress us as pictures, not as moralizations. We 
have, however, already observed how much the eighteenth century 
was an age of mivolty and cxpprimi-nt, CJolilsmitli's pocins, like 
Falconer's 'Shipwreck' (1762), whirh so curiously blends the 
styles of PojW aud Thomson, are, in many wars, pecnliar and 
single in their age ; and for the origin of the distinctly mnricm 
manner, both in descriptioD and narrative, wo mtut look to 
another school. 

As the ailvance in our poetry made hj Collins and Gray was 
much iiiAuenctKl by the sliitly of firecian writers, wi it is remark- 
able that the step whitli we owe to I'crcy and the Wartons was 
governed by another form of antiquarian research. It would be 
an exaggeration to say tliat the Middle Ages were to them what 
Adieus was to tlie fin>t-nain4Kl ; Gmy was also a cJireful student 
of our earlier literature, and the Wartons were accompltshetl sons 
of tliat university, one of whose niauv glories it has lung bern that 
there the spirit and genius of the ancients receive tnit: appreciation 
ami honour. Nor were they without mimy allies in what — if 
the ward may be excused — might be called their Elizabethan ism. 
Beside the n-searchcs of men like Gray, Collins, and Mann, 

tlie 



I 
I 



I 




frGin Drydea to Coirper. 



171 



the simple fact that in no ago ban tlie imitation (if Spenser been 
more common than daring the eif^hteentli century shows bow 
itich the tide wa& already prepare! to turn towards our earlier 
ry." Indeed, looking back to the brothers who so much 
i.nt-(;U>tl tlic rourai- nt nur drseriptive poetrj", it is rlear that the 
minil of Ur. Warton, the fatht-r of Jnsi?pli am) Thotnas, was 
Cnneil to tlie same uielod^ as the minds of liis Ix'tter-known 
children. 'J'be hliowing <lelicatc]y-touched lines must have been 
written bclore J 745 :— 



On ball of dnlrim iillr hM, 

vOlow vsTtnff o'er ni^ bcNiid. 
nonuDg on Uid Ixmoiii^ atcia 
-■ the round awl gUttenng gem. 
by tbo IniMe of jrowlcT tipring. 
Of Nature's miuiu okumns I niug : 
Aiuliitiiiu, pndi\ and iitiiuti, lulieu : 
YoT what liM Joy to Jo mth you ? 




Joy, ro!«-l!pft*d Drj-nd. loroi to dwl^1l 
lo Buany Jiold or taoMy onll : 
Uelightii on echoing IiiIIb to favsr 
The rcapeKs »ong. or lowlni; steer: 
Or view with tonfoM plenty mrMd 
Tbo crowded coni'OsU, blooaii 

While beauty, licaJth, and {diioomim 
TnmpDTt the eye, tbe ttoul, lb« i 



No great advance on this is exhibited by Tbonias Wnrton, nor, 
amount a number of nleasinff poems, has he lefi any stamped 
with original jnwer. He looked at life and Nature with a 
learned rather tlion a gifted eye, Uiroiigh the imprnssinns whieh 
he derived from the study of our own earlier literature. He 
pivcs graceful pictures in the Kliznbeihan manner, or that recall 
the immorial landscapes of Milton. Cut the influence which he 
exerriseil most nut be measured bv his own creations ; it was 
probably the wider and the more enduring because it aimed 
rather at resloration ami revival than at novelty. Headers will 
find two charming specimens of his style in his ^Hamlet' and 
* First of April.' We prefer to quote, as more indicative of his 
mind, a short ode, * written in solitude at an inu in 1709 : '^ 



on ' ' - i-'ii .1 f ..'lin, 

Oil. 1 Iraio. 

Wl..; LL-ocoo'd, 

BatM I ii»;t ltii-<t, Si'IiIiuIkI 
TtifQ wtir loiiMliiuwi lo mc 
Tk-*l and trou 9oelet^-. 
Ihit, h)i ! Iiow altered Is tby mien 
la tLia sad dttierted Mceael 



Ilvre all Iby clftMiu plt-Murei i 
Uodoc ntO*!. and tlton^tlitAtl pesMT] 
Here Ihou eriiu'rt in MlUMi BMod, 
Not with tliy (ontutia brood 
OfmAgic S)iitpe« and >'bdon« airy, 
Bockon'd troiD the land of Fairy. 



These lines are one example of many, illustrating what 
seems to us the most individual feature in this phase of our 

rtry. Till" importanre of the work left by tlie Wartont, 
^ Logan, Beattie, and others^ lies less in the work itself 
than in the sentiment which i: jicrpetnaUy embodies. Courtly 

* This enrioui fraloro ci' tin- limc drsi-rri-t study, with a hundred nmiUr 
detail*. Wheu will En|:li*li poeir;— after (he Oree£ the most imfionuil In th« 
whole vorlil't liteniiirv! — Bod a hiitgrtao of the eTeutfiil caietr ia which we can 
noly liriKfly Botice a ft;w upocu ? 

and 





mill cultivateil life. rrgulaUM) ami (tliougli in a loft^ sense) 
(■unvciiticmni Uistes aiul manners, were the themes of the Kcfaool 
which culminated in Pope. A love of the wilii and the 
romantic, a deference to fancy, an enthusiasm for solitude and 
cuuntrv srent^ dLsting'uisli the school which succeeded him. In 
die first we are in the Loudon of Bolinnbi-oke and Harlejc, or 
tnrforo * ^rt'at Anna ' at her solemn TVit' in the halls of llampttm ; 
or, if awav from the paLire and the park, our most of rountr)' is 
Stowc or Blenheim. It is always sunlight or waxlight, nor are 
we ever quite unconscious of rulDes, hoops, and powder, Witli 
tlie new school the scene shifts : the pure agricultural country 
itself, farms and shepherds, are not sufliciently rustic: — * Hide 
me from day's parish eye:' we arc with Warton in tlie ahy&aes 
of Whichwood, or Lopan by a monumental urn set in dim 
shades by a grotto at twilight ; or Bcnttie carries us (o the remote 
roltnges of lowland valleys : — 

Slow let mv climb tho iiinnntain*8 airy brow ; 

Th« groou height gain'd, in luiuofill raptorc lie ; 
Sleep to tho murmur of tho woods below. 

Or look on Nature with n lovor'n eye. 

LA.vonDUNE, VitioM of Fancy, 17G2. 

I^gan lias a fine ode on an autumnal scene, which, with 
Beattie's better-known jMienis, pre:ient this ns|H'ct of Natun? in its 
fullness. Like the painted landscape of the time, the tone of 
these works is sulxJuptl and sombre, not without a certain sent)- 
mentalisin. One might call them Oainsbo roughs on jmpcr. 
Contrast the pictures of that great ortisl with those of Turner, 
glowing with sunlight^ and rendering every aspect of this * mucfa- 
variegated cart3i,' and the reader will liave a fair measure of the 
difTcrencc between the poetical landscape of this century and 
that of the period we are speaking of. In this, no doubt, the 
foreign influences wliich after 1770 began to he felt again in 
Kngland nn; concemeil, and s<nncthing of the spirit of Koussenu 
and Werier <-<)lours our poctrj- with a soft hazy sadness, not 
unpleasing to those who are wearied by the lurid lights and per* 
}wtu»l purple with which some writer? have lately familiarised 
us. But a grrnt change u-ns at hand ; and mntemiwranrouslv 
with ihe first sounds of politirni storm across the Channel we 
find our poets [lassing to a sterner and more practical view, not 
only of Man but of Nature. Cowper's landscape takes a mnge 
far wider than his predecessors' ; but what wc w<»uld here dwell 
tm is the ivmstant interfusion in it of two elements hardly frit 
before, — the jmsltion and wavs of (he agricultural poor nnil tlic 
lessons of religion. Crabbe's scojie is far more rralrirtetl ; in its 
gencml gloom it may remind us of the writings just noticed ; but 

hat 



i 



hL 



witat 



from Dri/den to Cowper. 



lis 



wliat in Gray and Collins, Logan and Warton, was a musing inclnn- 
choly, in the Suffolk poet a<L<iiimes a stem tone of momllKution. 

As the critical spirit prcdoniinntcs in the (?.irli«r }M)«ir}- o( tlie 
(eighteenth ronturv, so in the latter portion two p-eat tendencies 
ar« visiljli-: love nf nnliiral description, and altempu at a mure 
viviii ami wider dt-lincntion o]~ Imman clmracter and incident. 
\Vc have now examined the piw-try nf naturr at some length, and 
may turn to the last portion of the present essay — the gradual 
flcrelopinrnt of the tnlc and the lyrical narrative. That style 
grew up by ati'ps so gradual and so modest, that the vast 
place which, with the puctrv of nature, it wiiuM linld in later 
days, was totally unanticijiatcil liefurc it had lieen stiiniiM-d liy 
the ro^'al hands of IJurns and Scott Ou the af»ence of Uiis 
Inrm of verse from our earlier caUivated literature we Lave 
remarked before ;* nor can wc now attempt to trace the obscure 
orvfittai and descent of the liiillad poetry with which the col- 
lectors of the last hundred years (so often iHiets themselves) linve, 
as it were, endowetl us. Whilst, however, the greater number 
were still the fireside delight of Knglish cotta-^cs, or lingering in 
the depths of Yarrow, a fe*v ballads had alwavs ret-iincd cur- 
rency amongst the more educated classes ; and from Uie days 
of Sidney to Addison, stories like 'Chevy Chase' or * Fair 
Rosamond' never wanted the attention of uicn uf taste, and 
were collected by students like Selden, Ashuiolc, and Pepys. 
Meanwhile that bent of pcietrj- to common life, which we have 
noticed ns the gnjwing characteristic of the whole age, whilst on 
the one Iiand it prwiuced tiie 'familiar' pieces of Swift, Prior, 
Orecii, and many more, devoted to common life, but common 
life in its city aspects; on tlie other suggested the liappy dis- 
covery that incidents of more natural and rustic character — 
such as the * Lovers' Death,' which so struck Gay^might olsoj 
l»r suitable for soug. This discovery, for it was no l(?5s, was cor 
trmporancHius with the origin of our descriptivi* poelrj-, and 
might b<> fancifully said to liavc furnisht^l figures for the laml- 
scapes of Dyer and Tliornsnn, And the development of lyric-; 
narration should specially be noted as the first exauvple of 
influence held by genuine Scotch literature over English, of 
which this (tentury has witni'ssed a renewal so striking and io 
potent. Bcfrne 17J2(), we lielieve, were produced the eailiest 
pnhltsliPil collections nf truly national songs and l>nllads in 
A. Kainsay's 'Miscellany' and 'Kycrgreen' — collections con- 
tnining, iudee<i, much dross miugletl witli the purer metal, and 
not a few ancient poems alloyed with mmlern matter ; yet , 
(Uudoulttedly of excellence sufficient to set their mark on an agej 

• Vol. ex., pp. ♦«-». 

already 



ulrmdj piTpamil In turn an (Nir tti anctunt imrltxiios, and a nico 
alive with just sensitiveness to their national frlories. Kamny 
and hii work were rapidly appreciated; and h» we hatl tliat 
Gay, when tmvellinj in the North, vrn» Ramsay** visitor at Edin- 
Inirgli, it may be reasonaljly conrhiitrd that to the spirit he 
raug;ht in the shop in ' Niildry's Wyml ' was durr sume |>ortion at 
least of tliat which places («ay ainnii*j!tt the hest song'-writi'rs of 
the century. To the same jieriod Mon;; Mallei's ' MarpirBt,* 
TickeU's 'Lucy,' and Carey's 'Sally.' The two stylr» of ancient 
and modern ballad ma!(?«:rrl, ami fnim tliis time onward* imita- 
tions of the* old Scotch and Kiiglish soug an* scattered througU 
the collci-tions. These early attempts cxempltfv that grnal 
feature of the eighteentli century — so often supcrficiidly cea- 
Kured as lame and conventional — its adventurous experinirntal 
spirit and aim at new lines in poetry. But it was natural that tlie 
elements should not mix kindly; that (as in ttie diction of thti 
time) tlie city muse shouUI jar witli the muse of the cuitntry; 
that the halUi] should at times apjx-ar (as in Oay's * Susan ') in 
a Imlf court-<lress, nt times with the almost over-nalurnl but irre- 
sistible pathos of the ' bally * — a poem which might have been 
the envy of Catullus, as it was the admiration of Addiaoa. 

A second stage is markrnl liv Percy's *Rplique9 of Ancient 
English Poetry* (1765), a book happily too familiar to require, 
UiiniK'li it well deserves, a detailed criticism. From alioat this 
date we may note a vast advance towards a reiillv vivid and 
truthful style in our ballads, Goldsmith's ' l^dwin ' beine perhaps 
the latest specimen of the more conventional manni-r. Ihit 
highly as wc rate tlic grace and music of his verses, they 
cannot claim the excellence of Didy Anne Lindsay's * Aald 
IWuu Gray ' ^1771), Miss Elliott's ' Flower* of the Forest,* or 
Micklc's admimble 'And are yr snre the news is trap?' 
'one of the most beautiful sonps,' as Bums justly tdMerved, 'in 
the Scots or any other lan^ajre.' As a less happy result of 
the same tendency to the Past, we may name the attempt to 
revive or rrnovntc extinct forms of literatme in Chattertnn's 
'Media!\'al Romances* (17G8). We have thnmghou! lonknl at 
poetry as governed by great general laws, and the crenlure of 
national development. Tliis revival of sjTnpathy for the aotinne 
forms no exception, although we can here only indicate its 
sources — in the peace of Wali>oIe't government, which allowed 
men's Interests to revert fnnn present to long past political 
struggles, and the reaction agntunt tlic dominant VVhig families 
and principles which set in after 1760, Minor cauws and 
parallels may be found for the work of Percy, Wartrm, nock 
Chattcrton, in the antiffuarian researches of Walpole and his 

trieoi 



I 



i 



jwm Drtfdm to Cowpcr. 



175 



friciids, anci Uielr first attempts at Gothic mmtincc in books and 
buildings ; whiUt the popiilority of Ossiftn's poems was rrndered 
pouiblc b^r the opcninpf of the Hifflilands, and the rerutsion of 
feeling towards their wild ialmbttauts, ubicli i'ollowcd the pacifi- 
cation of 1749. 

To the further development of the lyrical tmrmttvo vre can 
spare only a few words. In Scotland, Fergussun's jioenis, cxliibil- 
ini^ the same advance in nature on Kamsay's, as IVrcy's ballads 
on Mallet's, appeared in 1773 ; whilst it is enongh to add tliat 
Hums' first and best volume was published in 1786. In Knglaitd 
a sinipilar general pause in poetry occurs alter 1770 — a space 
of sili-ni-t! in that region, prelusive (one might fancy) to the 
Kyinphunic and exultant burst of song which fills the first 
thirty years of our own century * with sounds that echo still.' 
Two voices atone break the stillness ; criticism cannot, indeed, 
rank either poet amongst the greatest, yet seldom has a vast 
coming cliange been more surely heralded than by Crabbc and 
CowjKT. filnncc back one moment over the space covem! by 
our brief and partial rpriew, and consider the strange inlen'al 
between the writing whose masterpieces arc the * Rape of the 
Lock ' and the * Parish Register ; ' between the * Keligio Laiei * at-] 
Orydcn and the * Hymns of Cowpcr — one a theology midwaj 
between Aquinas and llobbcs; the other painting the strugifles 
of the soul in the battle of (Jracc and Despair, with a force . 
perilously near to that madness which in Plato's idea wns, ns it! 
wen*-, the other side of poetical inspiniticin. Compart? thi-si? men 
when tlipy tnurli analogous Oiemes — (Jrabbe's ' isnav. Asliford,* 
and Pope's *Man of Ross* — and observe how in their likeness, 
if we may risk the phrase, they are almost more unlike than in 
their ilissiuiilarities. Notice also how strictly the law of external 
inHiienrPs govrms each period ; that the reign of Anne is not 
more stamjK'd on the brilliant coupletsof Pope, titan the* Kngland 
of Lord North, of Hiirke, and of Pitt, on tlie sterner lines of the 
lost hand which wietiled his verse witli creative genius. Remark, 
lastly, how the intellectnal and moral qualities of tliat interesting 
centnry bear themselves on to the close — tlie courage, the venture- 
some expeninent, the high, anti, in a strict seiUM-, manly tone, 
tlii> love of carfful form and ctnnplirlciicjis ; axnl willi llirse lofty 
qualttirs, thn tliou^hl^ and thi! lauguu^c alloyed by cimveiilloiial 
traditions, the want of the deeper music and more purple light with 
which the minstrels whom we may call our own Iwve enriched us. 

Tu sum up our general view : As, after the long cBurls already 
trac-etl, men were now on tJie brink of creating the pure dc*<Tip- 
Vun of Nature whith no literature liad before comiiasscil, so in 
the two last [H>ets of the eighteenth century the pure poetry of 

hurauu 



in 



Etiglith Poetry 



Ituman passion and cbaract«r, unkaown in England since tho 
ilrnma of the pre-Uestoratii>n |>erio<l, reasserted iUelf bjr « 
parallel and ton^^cninl dcvolopmcnt. Thus, il* wv have stated 
uur arffumcnt dearly, readers will sec that the main {xiints of 
traiisitiun to the jKwtrv of our age ha*'e been sevenillv trar«l,' — 
thp poetry of Nature tu many concurrent sources, that of Incident 
to thi^ halloils, the passion for antiquity to the rcsRorcbos of 
Kamsay and Percy, the nir>dern form, diction, and melody to the 
revivwl study at once of our own earlier literature awi of t3ie 
firec-k. What other qualities in Wonlswortli, Scntt, and their 
i'untein|>t)nirtes wen- Irnineiliately due to llie pn^ssnre cif political 
and fiociul life at home aiul abroad we tunnul here iiotirr, (except 
to add that by a true crilici^nL tliey must be ascribed, not, as 
often, to Uic French Revulutiun, the iin^Mjrtance of which, in its 
bfurings im literature, hns been greatly overrntetl, but lo the 
far deeper and wider spirit of which tliat was but a local 
exhibition. 

Let us return for a moment, in conclusion, to the * larger and 
purer aether ' of pocti'v, as we find it in the works of the sweet 
singer of Oustr antl Olney. How strange is the ronmucc of that 
pathetic story \ The lightheai-ted friend of 'lliurlow in the 
attorney's ofilce — the lunatic at the House of Lords — the rapt 
visionary — the atcnily-judging politician — the devout student of 
Homer — the dupe of ^c cobbler's revelations, — yet, through all 
the madness of bis desjuir and superstition, the man who trolj, 
in words of a so-familiar sublimity, 'received the kingdom of 
Heaven as a little child,'— what a wild series of contrasts does tlus 
career present ! And we might add deeper colours . . . the ever- 
haunting youthful love which coloured another's life Iiesidc his 
own, the suicide nearly carried out, the dreams, and ecstasies, and 
voices which seemed to make that quiet village in Bedfordshire 
the meeting-point and bittlle-lield between Hell and Heaven. A 
lens romantic sphere of rxistence tlian Cowprr's could hardlv be 
imagines] ; yet we have here what tndy transcends most romance. 
And how strange also is the charm which allures us in his )y>etry I 
— strange as the revelation must have Ijeen to himself, that he, the 
middle-agetl and retircil Inwyi-r, was able to move a whole nation 
to tears and laughter, — to siirjioss the force of Churchill, and wield 
more tlian the influence of Pope, — ti> reopen the pages of ancient 
Epic to Englishmen, — lo carry the warnings of judgment and the 
lessons of love to a thousand cottages. There is a tale that 
Curreggjo, when young, saw a picture by Raphael, and with a 
glance of modest self-iliscovery said, Atwh' to fi/n l*iUorc. With 
some such feeling must 0»w[M:r hn\c awakenetl to the sense of 
his own endoSvmcats. This knowledge ciime at a date in his 

lifb 



I 
I 



I 
I 



from Dn/tteii to Cowper. 



177 



life when few pwtii liave fullv prcfsen'nl their nownr: it found a 
man unversed beyond most in thn world's wa^rs, and all but des- 
titute of that experience which his great Gorman contemporary 
held essential to saccess in poetry. Yet how many and how 
various wcm liis successes I It wnuhl lie untrue to claim for 
CowjHT u place amongst the highrsi masters i>f his art, nor rouhl 
any asHUinption have lier^n more alien from his exquisite tnixliiity. 
Much also in his works was of a temporary and a consequently 
now exhausted interest ; but wbere he is ^eat, it is with the 
^reotness tliat rests on tlie deepest and simplest human feiding?. 
Kxtvpl when tluit miuhtess intervenes which discoloureii his life 
and settled on bis religious opiiiiutis, a truly uoble manliueiMi uf 
time marks him everywhere. The love of freedom, and friend- 
ship, and Nature, — -the scorn of pettiness, vanity, ambition, — the 
hatred of meanness aiHl of wrong, — tin- ti'Ddcrncss for tlic |KKir 
and feeble, — all these elementary alTections of human natun.% 
which so rarely penetrate the chaiartcr of those who praise 
them, were to this highhearted uian the bieath of life. These 
riualititv are not poetry, but they are far more important to 
the poet than llie experience so prized by Goetlic. Cowpcr has 
embodied them with a noble simplicity of style worthy of t}ie 
ancients. A severe grace is the most marked characteristic of 
his writing; such verses as his ' Royal Geoi|^' are like the creation 
of a Grecian chisel ; but tliis severity is accomj)nnie<l iiud 
bahinced bv humour of delightful quality, gay, gamesome, and 
fearless, vet delicate and tender with more than feminine t^-mler- 
nrss. It is interesting to compare him with his Scottish <'on- 
tempomry i both struggling in style agiiinst the inanncrism from 
which they could not wholly escape; brjth loving Nature and 
Human Nature with the enthusiasm of the port's immortal 

routhfulness : Burns the more intense, Cow|)er the wider in his 

itcrcsls : the one richer in colour imd melody and spontaneous 

flow, the other attaining his end by n more gracious touch, and 

compensating bv jHirity for what he wants in strength. Such 

hIIpIs are templing, but must not be eagerly pushed, or we 

^"jnay (n'erlook the essential differences between these two great 

poets. Yet, unlike as they are in many points, no one %vill deny 

^that they are amongst the very few who have united in a high 

legre** the gifts of humour and nf [lathos. We are famiHnr with 
the humonms side of iMjtti ; it is man; rurluus to eontrast them 
in the pathetic. Here, although an undisriplined L-iste has led 
~um too often to cnfcetslc his lines with commonplace aud care- 
mess. Boms' greater alHuence of nature gives his writing a 
more glowing tone. Let us quote examples iu the luxury of 
repnMlucin(f the linuiirliolil wonis of all who h>ve poetry : — 
Vol. \n.—No. 223. N Ye 



English Poetry 



T« bunki and bnM anil Btreami uotnu) 

Tb« vmU« w' Monlf^omt-rj-, 
Qrofn 1<(< your woimIa, sml Cuir yonr flowers, 

Tour mten rii^v«r drnmliw I 
Tliere umaaer &nl uubiuld hat n>boi, 

And tilore tbu luiifrciit lAiry ; 
Fur llioN! I tiiok the Uust f»r<>wolI 

O' my wwoet llighlftiul Maty. 

How aweelly Moixn'd Uio guy jfrtt-n IJrlr, 

nuv ricti tliti iiuwUiom'fi blwsom. 
At iiR<Utni(nth their (iHgtiuit bJiiulu 

I ('la»p'd her to luy boeuin I 
Ttia i^ldfMi liiiure on nn|rel-wfngi 

yiiyvt itVr uio mill my tlvutie: 
For dcu to mt< u li^Ut and lire 

WoH my awcvi ili^likiid H1U7. 



W]' TiKwy STOW wid lor>k'd w nhr a ce 

Our lUTting WM fu' tondcr ; 
And iiU»lRiii)j ftfl to miict Again, 

We lor»« niirwlii lunindcr ; 
But I fL'U l>Liitb'« untimely fnH 

Tliut iii|>l my lluver ma ciuly ! 
TsoW|ttt'Hn')illio»c«l, and raoldii thoi 

TIibI wraps my HigtiUuid Mw^ \ 

(mLo. jiiJe DOW thow rwjr Up<i 

I uft lioo IdsB'd mo fiindlj I 
And I'l'jjid for aye the spuklinK gl 

Tlul dwult uu ine*a'-kii»1lv : 
And minildering now II'. I '■•.-l 

TbatllwrttlutloV-! . { 

Uiit vtiil wiUiia iny bust.^.... .^.^ 

mmll liva luy tOgliUud Hur; ! 



There Is a strait^ fire nbout this poem ; It is the aun»ct of 1 
an overmastering pasition. Anothrr and rarer phase of poMion, 
le« iervid in its onn nature, is tliot puinted by Cowpcr. Tliero j 
is ni) awful ctiluurless calui nliuut his staniEos to Mrs, Unwin; 
an intensity of pusslaiiate desjxiir. — 

For pould I vh'w nor tUfm imr l\we, 
WIml Mglit wodti t>«cing 4.<oald I Me? 
The ann wnuld nw.> m vain fur twv 
My Sluy ! 

Pnrtabiin rif Ui^' mil lUvMne, 
Tliy liimtU thi-ii Ltlk' tuKO tamgu ; 
Yet, g«iitly fina«*d, una Koatly mine, 
MyBCiuyl 



Th<' twt'ntlt-tli Tosr it well nigh piut 
Sinoo llr#t our #lc)- n-nn ovefcnrt ; 
All 1 wvuld that tlm migUt be tlio lost, 
Jly Slury ! 

Tliy HfitriU linve u tkiiitvr Saw, 
I m.\' lini- iliuly wmkcr i^w — 
Tww my tlulrKmji tlint moiiglil UiM low. 
My U»jy I 

Tliy i>««dl«)i, onco a aliiniriA hIi^to, 
I-Vir my KiikK inAtloAs lii-ivUifoH^ 
Vim riul tlUnusd, nnd stiiiiu til> more ; 
My Muy I 

For thong^ than glwlly wonld^t fulfil 
Tlie mame Idod umce Tor luv ntill. 
Tby aiglil now leitniib uut Uiy will, 
MyBUty! 

Bnt wrll thou plny'dAt lh« linnjK-wifc'd pari, 
Atril nil tliy ibrMula with niu^ie-ari 
II1LV0 wound itioniMilTeH sbnul tliit hmrt. 
My JUiyl 

Thy liidUtinct. i-^prnotJima >oiin 
Jiloo liutfn>'m<' ultiT'd In M drtttQi ; 
Yi't nie IIh-v I'liitmi, wluti^'cc tlui tlipmu, 
UyMmyl 

Thy diver locks, 0000 anbnm krlghtt 
Are Btill mon: Lirely in ny si^it 
Than itoldeni 1>aua« of onvnt ught, 
"^ HyUnry! 



Biloh levbleaeM of Umba ihoTi pmy'fl, 
Tlial nitw nt vraj titcp Uxtu mov'iit 
Vrihi-ld hy tWK ; wt atiJl tlinii Inv'ri, 
MySIuy! 

And Ktill to lov«. though proM'd wldi 
In wintry iti^a to Tvel uu ouiU, 
Willi mv b to bv lovdy itill. 
MyK«ij! 

Itiil nh ! by <:on9lant hc«d I know 
llim ofl Itio MulnuM lliut I ilimr 
Trknaftimu Ihy Molica to looks of 
My Mary 1 

And •houM my fiiliin lot Iw omI 
With miu'h nwuiblwiix' of the inMt. 
Tliy wom-uiit hmit will l>rc«k at liwt, 
My Mary I 




Now, a few of tltc Lines on his mother** portiait : — 

Gould Tim<% his flight revened, reatorc the hours 
When, placing witii tby Tosturo'a tismied flontan, 



Tho 



Jrfm Dtyden to Cmeper. 179 

The nol6t. the pink, and jeesanuae, 

I priokod tliom into pupoi- with a pin, 

(Ami Hnm waht liappiiir than mysolf Ihe while, 

Wonldst ttoftly Bp<iiu£. and stroke my head, and Bmilo) 

^Oould those fow pleasant dajs again app>eftr, 

3ngfal ono wifd] bring them, wcmid I wiHh thum hofO ? 

I irotild not fcnut my heart— the dear delight 

Seems bo to ho dcatrtyl, perhaps I might : — 

Btit no, — what beni wo coll onr lifii i« Huch, 

f^o little to be loTod, and thou ho mnch. 

That I should ill rcqirito thco to conBlrain 

Thy nnboimd Bpiiit into bvndB agnin. 

T^faprc i& little of tliis blended elevatioD and tenderness in any 
literature, and words would bnrdly strengthen the cHect of it, 
Cowpcr is our highest master in simple pathos. 



Art. W.— I. International Exhibiti0n^\^^2. Official Catalo^utt t 
Jjuliutrial and Fine Aria Def/artmaUs, — HhiHrated Cafa/otfue, 
ParU 1—6. 

2. Uixtory of the International Exhilnliott. By John I IolUng;shcad. 

WtfKX Malvolio was generalizing on the \'arious ways in 
which mankind become acquainted willi greatness, he 
forgot one notable class — those into whose mouths greatnes* 
drops, and who contrive to swallow it the wrong way. Thei 
CommisiioDcrs for the Exhibition of 1862 se«m to have appro* 
dated the oversight, and made the trial. The larger and more 
brittinnt Corporation, who had the charge of the World's Fair lai 
1851, resrmhled merchant adwnlurers bound for an tinknowii, 
and trenrlicrous sea, who Imfiiglit their vessel safelv hnmo again, 
in spile of many sinister antici]»ations. In 18ft0, while the project ; 
was under discussion, International Exhibitions were still among! 
the world*» unsolved problems, the din of civil strife had hardly 
died nway in the continental capitals, at liomc a large class was 
dmid and vaporish, every inconvenience and danger which could 
siblv result from the unwonted throng of foreigners in l^ndnn 
W3U pressed into the ser^'ico. Colonel Sibthorp, whom hnir- 
btained shrewdness made a very ugly antagonist, vowed eternal 
enmity to the entire ]>rojoct. The disputes which arodc ahnut 
the site had been appeased by Royal interpogition, but nt the hut 
moment, when the sod of Hyde Park wjls to be turned and hour» 
were golden, n hnge difTicnlty glare*! out in unexp<?ctwl ugliness, 
Tlic projetUirs luut promiiMi) the sliinv before tliey had secured a^ 
house wherein to lodge their wares. A competition for plans 

s 2 VwA 



The Tnitrnuitional Exhibition. 



ba<l resulted in an elaborate failure, and a project wKicli the 
ufTirinls bad (■»R>keU up as tlic quintessence of all the tenders wag 
received b^' tlie public witli undisguised rrprabation, A break 
clown was all but certain, when a ^Lrdcner dropped in and 
suggested a big conservatory. Si»ce Cinderella's glass alippi't^ 
no such success Lad ever been achieved with that material. Ihef 
* Crystal Palace' rose i'rom the lurf sparkling and graceful, and 
the Silitliorp elms budded under the transparent roof. Of 
course toiiulii^s and wonder- mongers wen: nut wanting to make^f 
the lucky hit of a clever man ridiculous by fulsomu praise; and,^ 
as might be expected, the Ihitterers were nut unaccompanied by 
busy mockers. But, after every abatement, the Exhibition o£^ 
1851 was hailed successful in every asper!, fniancinl, artistic^ 
social, and commercial, while popular jui^tice nnanimousl 
rciiderL-d the praise rightly due tcj the goiKl Prince Albert for 
the liappy courage witli whicli lie undertook and carried througU 
the scheme. 

Since 1851 thr-re has been a perfect glut of experience for thu 
who were not too proud to stndy the managernent of great exhi 
bitions, an<t the architectural probleiii of how tu house tlieiuj 
The modified success of tlie Dublin tmitatioti, and the failuro 
of the Xew Vork speculation, aHbrtled ample warnings. Paiia^ 
was able, within four years of our great effort, tu matcli its v; 
display. Meanwhile the Hyde Park Palace liad ainie to life 
again at Sydenham, and in the various phases of the South 
Keiisingloii MusL-uui a whole plitlosuphy of popular rxliil>ition>S 
making had been deve]o|>i.-d. Xur must the r'iue Arts Exht-^| 
bition of Manchester in 1857 be forgotten ; and oue at luul of 
the CommissioiK'rs of 18()2 would have bad no diQiculty in cun-,^ 
tribuCing to the common stock some valuable warnings, gatliem|fl 
from the exiierience of that undertaking, as to the un|)ojmlatily 
which assuredly follows ujion carelessness and incapacity." 

So forewarned and so lorearmfd, the Si>ciety of Arls pi 
claimed, first for 18G1, and then for 18ti2, the second Grca 
English Exhibition, whilp they dcvolvc<l its managcmeot u]k>h 
new Commission, These gentlemen assumed their responsi* 
bilities under august auspices, and the gravity of tJie loss wbicl 
felt upon the world in last December, unforeseen and iiTeparablf 
as it was, pleaded in their favour at the bar of public loyalty^ 

* The iliuiiag« so onlp&blf ioflicled opon inTsIuble works of an by Oat < _ 
Ihs maiuwr bi which 11117 '"<'« rqncLeil, htis o{i«ratc<l sioc^ then ts a great tUsT 
conrsMSint to tbc fiinnstioii of xim'ilnr Go[lv«liuns. Wc havii Men a v«rj 
valosUc carljr Cologne puinilng fiu paD«l, lompming Afpires pxcciitvd oe Ibe 
scale ui*l witti tbi- hnie>li »( iniiiiiiiiiri'&, whicli «.'ii> k*f[ tu a raqieulcr lu iwrvw (O 
ibv (ill uf B box. Il was not Ills ruiilt ilial Hiv bult-a wiili wbicli it wm di^ligoiv^ 
did nut dtstroy any of the ftws. 



The International Exhibition. 



181 



Its members passed for e^iierienced men of business, and 
L«rd Granville enjoys all the popularity which a very good* 
imturtvl public man not spoiled by office ts sure to aenuire. 
Tlie first consideration which hnd t<i be foecd M-as how to find a 
silt! aiifl raise a biiihling for the anlicjpat«i collection. This 
was not n question merely of material enpobilities. No one who 
has followed the art contests of I'^iigland for the I.-ist detrnde c^n 
pTPteml ignorance of the great Bromptou controversy. For 
mAny reasons we merely allude to this us a past scene in the 
cver-inc)%-tn{i^ diomma of liistorv, hnping* that it mnv nnw lie ron* 
sidered set at rcsf by the romjironiisr of the South Ki>nsiii^on 
Museum and the I lurticultund Socit-tv l«Mng arecjitinl a* aerora- 
plished facts. Kighteen montlis a^o the discussion was stiH rile. 
The fart that die Commissioners of 1851 had employed their 
profits in buyiniif estates at Rromptnn, of which thev were willing- 
to lei a portion fur the purposi-s nf Ii^l)2, determiniil tlie ^eni^ral 
site, bnt it determiuetl nothing more. ThcMM* Commissioners 
And the Government had previousiy dissolved a somewhat com- 
plicated partnership which they had contracted. On the one 
side the ^iencc and Ai1 de|Kirtmcnt of the adminisiration was 
constituted poHiiessor of the South Keiisin^on Museum, and of 
the grround U]M>n which it stood. The Commissioners, for their 
nart^ raiseil to the position of one of Uiose prent — formally private, 
Imt reallv national — corpirrations, such as the Bank and the now 
cclipM:<l luist India Company, which it is the genius of tlie 
Kn^Erlisb Constitution to fosu-r, hud reluineti, afUT disposing of 
outlying bits on beneficial buildings leases, u large oblong slip of 
Mme tiftv acres, abutting on the Kni>;kt$bridgeRoa{l tothc north, 
and Imunded east, west, and south, by new roads or streets ca,lled 
Prince Albert, Eihibition, and Cromwell Koads. The allocution 
Iff this land was closely connected with a scheme which was 
w-armly supjkjricd in some quarters, but was never %'ery popular 
either with tne outside public or with tlip independent members 
of tlie artistic and scientific fmtprnity, and which, after liaving 
been weakened by the dissolution of partnership, was finally 
eztinfrnished this very summer by Mr. Gregory's majority against 
ihc <lismemberment of the British Museum. Wc mean of course 
the ambitious project of Riising at Rromptoii a revival of tlio 
Alexandrian * \iu!<eum ' out of tlie dt^ms of the 1851 Exhibition. 
The removal of the IV.^tional tiallcry from Trafalgar Square, 
which formed an clement in the calculation, happened to arrest 
jmbiic attention wlien other proposals would not have |M>sse5se<l 
an interest outside learned circles. Everybody could drop into 
the actual gallery when lie wished it, and so no!)ody desired 
to sec tlte collceiioa traosfcrrcd to a region wbicU imjioscd upon 

the 




the lounger a cab-fare or a long walk ; and in citbfrr case 
oonsiilrrabU* cxpenditurp of time. So tlic Royal CitmmissioaJ 
of 1857, presided over by L«»rd Bomijlilon, and including 
Deaii Milnmii, Mr. Faraday, and Mr. Kichniond, roportrd ia 
farour of keeping the pictures at Charing Cross; and the Kcond. 
Derby Government, wnich came in during the rollowiiw yesr, 
"flcR-d the Royal Academy a gift of n portion of JJurlingluilj 
House Gardenf for its new building, on rondition of itAl 
dclcrrnining its tennnry of the eastern half uf the Trafalparj 
Square Gallery. Still, however, the Cnnunissioners held to thei^l 
land nn<l to tboir purpose. The llorticuhural Society, whichf 
had since its foundation rusticated at Chiawick, came into) 
proniiricnce as ihe'chicf claimant lor their favours. No one had'l 
a word to urge against its pn'tensions ; it askr><l to come tol 
town, and town was glad to n'ceive the petitioner. In the crenticiaj 
of a metropulitan garden, then* was the guarantee of a new lanj 
for London. It was compamtively unimportant tliat the prospc 
of the horticulturists growing anything in their new allotmeni 
were somewhat problematic. They had not given up the «s»'fiil| 
old nursery at C'biswick, while it was well undcntoo*! that thej 
object of Ine new garden was to set up a ' moral Crcmome.' 
the brave old trees whieh akirtetl the pnddatk of Gore Moui 
were fctletl, Httlc mmps were rBise<!, anil little slo|ies sliced of 
with a fiddling nicety of timrh wliicli would have delighted the' 
im]>ertal gardener uftiie Summer Palace; and the tiny dcclivitiefj 
thus insnutactured were tortured into curvilinear patterns, where 
9Ga-sand, rhoppnl coal, and pounded brickii, atonn) fortlie Rbseiictti 
of flower or shrub. The area had to I»e enclosed, for it was carefuUj 
stipulated that the lengthened frontages on tlie boundary ronc 
should form no portion of the least- to the Horticultural Socict 
The result was Mr. Smirke's Uenaissance arcades in brick at thai 
upper portion, and the terracotta imitation uf the l.atcran cloister, 
produced by the * Department' round the southern half, neitheri 
tbcm, it may be, great works, but lK>th of them graceful, ond cvei 
refreshing architectural experiments by the aide of their gi?anti4 
DeighboDf. To the stiuth of this carden lay another plot of 1851 
ground prctlestined for the New Exhibition. What was wantlnj 
ivai some agency to put it there. The Old Commission was well 
content with having acbievetl one success, and assumed the atti< 
tude of a parent — somewhat, it must be owned, uf a parent uf 
Sir Anthony Absolute &i Ium)1 — towards its tender suio-ssor. 
did not, indeed, refuse to come down with the settlement, but it 
attaclied pretty sharp conditions, iiud took good care that there 
should be trustees to look after ^'oung Hojieful's expenditure. Al 
things turned out, tlie heir was chiefly remarkable for a lomewbit 

unhcruic 



Tha ItOejTiatumai Exhibition. 183 

onheroic economy ; still, iintiii experience taught otherwise, it was 
allowable not to anticipate these qualities in a body composed of 
Lord Granville, thepresent Duke of Buckingham, Mr. Baring, Mr. 
(now Sir Charles) Dilke, and Mr. Fairbaim. The steady-going 
society of Arts was called in, and a very odd triangular arrange- 
ment consummated. The Commissioners of 1851 leased to the 
Society of Arts the desired plot of ground for ninety-nine years, 
in order that a third body, viz., the Commissioners of 1862, 
might cover it with an Exhibition building. Of this building 
one part was to be considered temporary, and either to be 
reckoned the property of the contractors, after a vast royalty 
had been paid for its use, or else bought out and out for a 
further sum ; and the other part was to be held permanent, and to 
pes* for the term of the lease to the Society of Arts, supposing 
the speculation to be solvent. If the returns were insufiicient 
this portion was to be pulled down at the close of the Exhibition. 
The motive-power of the whole scheme was a solid phalanx of 
Englishmen, some of them men of capital, and some men of 
enterprise, who had from various motives subscribed a deed of 
guarantee to the amount of several hundred thousand pounds, and 
on the strength of this deed the Bank of England found the money 
for the immediate undertaking. So there were the Bank that 
■dvanced, the subscribers who guaranteed, the New Commission 
that managed, the Society of Arts that advised and that waited 
(or its windfall, and the Old Commission that * sat in its counting- 
house c6unting of its money.' 

The ground so leased, as every one is now aware, comprehended 
not only the oblong space to the south of the Horticultural 
Gardens, but also two long strips enclosing those gardens to the 
east and to the west, to one of which, had not Parliament re- 
cently interfered, the Natural History portion of the British 
Museum would have been transferred. A further complication 
of a material nature attended the project, which was unknown to 
Sir Joseph Paxton and his employers in 1850. His work was 
simply to produce a building to contain an exhibition of industry 
•nd indusb'ial art ; while in 1862, in emulation of the Paris Exhi- 
bition, the * Fine Arts,' so called, i.e. Painting and Sculpture, were 
included in the programme. In fact, a building was to be pro- 
duced which should combine the uses of the Manchester glass 
house of 1857 with those of the historical Crystal Palace. 
Towards the execution of this work, irrespective of the agree- 
ment which we have perhaps mentioned rather out of place, 
there would have been a choice of several conceivable expe- 
dients, each of which would no doubt have provoked much 
criticism, but each of which was easily defensible. The Com- 

misuoners 



mixsioncrg had it in their power to build a permanent or eUe a 
teiiijKirnrv buiUling. IT tin; biiilfiiiig- wi-rc- to lie |jerinaaenl llior 
had mily to <:hn*is<' their arrhiti'd and lliraw upon him the 
resjionsibililv. The names uf the leading men in uie profeastoo 
were at the tip of everv ouc*s tongue. U the security of an 
eminent name were required, t]ie Commissioners might cither 
liave made tlicir choice once for all, or solicited a limited cnm- 
petitiou anuiiig some half-duzeii of the most disliitguishod 
architects. If they pieferred to look out for general and j>erbaps 
unknown talent, they had the alternative of on unlimited com- 
petition. It is not, however, 1o be denied that the ingenious 
blundering shown in the Public Offices competition had ratlier _ 
brought that expedient, eseellent as it is if judietously worked, ■ 
into fliscredit, and so we are not ali()gether dispose^! Ut blame its 
non-use in this case. 13ut if die building were to be tempomn', 
a shed or a removable greenhouse was all tliat was wanted for the 
immediate needs of the five montlis' show. Such a structure 
winild also have lieen incalrulablr cheaper, and would Itava'fl 
enjoyed the mural advantage of being void of any suspiciim of ^ 
an ijrritfre pem/^ in the choice of site and style. The last 
cons i lie rat ion was not unimportant to the popularity of the 
Kxhilntion, fur [leople were slow to believe that the danger of a 
dcj>ortiition of the National Gallerv w.os overjMisl. I'or a tem- 
jxjniry building the Mime very nbvious expe<lient of engaging 
an architect of tried n*])utation was available, or else Sir Ji>seph 
Paxton was still alive to show that he couhl improve as much upon 
Sydenham at Brorapton, as he improved upon Hyde Park ai 
Syilenliani. ^ 

Every eonecivablo motive seemed to exist to induce thoV 
Commissionpfs to do full justice t/i tlie nrthiteetuml art of 
England. The decade, which was just closing, hail been one of 
peculiar fermentation, if not of advancement in that way. If 
there was any reality in the motives which cuuseil an exhibition « 
at all, they must have been motives near akin to, if iicit ideiiticalfl 
with, those which would have prompted them to make an effort 
to gi-atil'y the world >vith a worthv building. An ejdubition 
building su|>erior to that o( 1851 would have been just as much 
a note of progress as a superior building-ful of goods could be. 
Both one and the other would be alike tymbolical of and advan- 
tageous to tlie art-industry movement. Clever minds had been 
naturally set thinking on the problem of architectural combina- 
tions of iron and glass.* The various exhibition buildings at 

Dublin, 

* A Cmtal PftlsoG is tn tbe conne of n-ectioo at Amaicnliuti, «id (be Bojal 
Acadcmj Kxhihiiion of this rery ^nr coninina ihc dcsigna of ■ large iron and 

k1«m 



2%e International Exhibition. 185 

Dablin, New York, Munich, Sydenham (so far as it differed 
from Hyde Park), Manchester, Mr. E, M. Barry's Conservatory 
in CoTent Garden, and Mr. Owen Jones's sketch for the ' Palace 
of the People * on Muswell Hill, were all but the last constructed 
works. It was almost due to the weil-known existence of so 
much study to give it vent. The very patronage of the Society 
of Arts ought to have been a guarantee that the profession of 
architectural art would not have been overlooked ; and if a further 
reason were needed, it consisted in the fact that there was still 
another body not ofBcially named, but patently helping to pull 
the strings, that newly created section of the public administra- 
tion which is emphatically ' the Department of — and which is 
expected to foster — 'Science and Art.' Under such circum- 
ilances and with so many good alternatives, the Commissioners 
deserve the credit of unwonted ingenuity for having closed with 
an expedient which succeeded in missing every advantage uf 
every other scheme, and in consolidating the opposition of every 
independent interest. The credit is if possible enhanced by the 
circumstance of their having involved official ' Science and Art * 
in their own artistic miscarriage. 

Those sheds of iron and glass in which the South Kensington 
Museum found a temporary domicile, irreverently nicknamed the 
Brompton Boilers, had been run up by a young and clever officer 
of engineers attached to the ' Department.' Science it was con- 
cluded he had brought in with him ; art was contagious to the 
locality, for what would be the use of such a department if it 
required the services of a regularly educated architect for any 
behoof of its own ? Captain Fowke had engineered the Boilers, 
and the permanent galleries appointed to lodge the Sheepshanks 
pictures were also his handiwork. One morning early in last 
year it was announced that the drawings for the International 
Exhibition were completed, and that their author was Captain 
Fowke. The announcement was couched in grand and mysterious 
phraseology- — something of which the world had never seen the 
like lay in the South Kensington portfolios. Acres of halls and 
furlongs of walls were to culminate in a triad of cupolas, of which 
the two smaller were as much to transcend St. Peter's or the 
Pantheon, as they were to be eclipsed by the largest and central 
dome. 

* Ncscio quid majus nascitur Hiade.' 



^»M market for Preston by Mr. Gilbert Scott, and of &□ exhibition building 
*x St. Petenhnrg by Mr. E. M. Barry, both of them indicative of considerable 
stadj, mod both as snperior to Captain Fowke's atracture as one thing can be to 
nwtJier. 

The 



1S6 



Tlte Internationai J^xftiliition. 



The world in g^fncral was puzzled; aoine perhaps lielioved, 
morp held tlieir tnii(i;in'. nnd a (vw cominpnlml. Nobody would 
iiiU-Tfcrc, Tor the Exhibition was Ut be built, publiclv apt'okin^, 
\vitli nobo<l)r*s monpy. If guarantors came forward to insum 
llie siilv»'ncy of a project so inaugurated, it was thfir own ni&ir. 
Meanwhile ibo grim lates, Kclk and Lucas Jlrotlirrs bmoilpd 
over tlic Ticanic design. For once the sheers of Alropos wrn* 
used to mutilate, not to ilestrov. These men of Iwse and 
mechantcnl mind saw no (liffiealtT in carrying out th» grand 
conception merely minus the one feature on xvhich its prDJerlori 
relied for their magntfitKnt culminating effecl. The central ball 
with its gigantic dome must be omitted, or hundreds u!" tlioiti>nndg 
would be lavishe<i, and 1HG2 would come and go and no Kshi- 
bition would take place. The contractors were masters of tha 
situation. So big a scheme in such raw hands, with so fc 
months for its realisation, stood no fiance against the verdict ol 
ried unrnmantic common sense. The bargain which the con 

ictors were called upon to strike, involving various unusu 
"contingcnciea, was sufiicioiitly hani to justify them in dictntin 
stringent ti-rms on their si<le. llierc was no time and Ie«* 
inclination to revise and remst the building in face of tlttl 
<tilemuia. The nutlioritics had proclaimed so confidently tba 
there was one building and Kowke was its architect, that tlu' 
left theraselves no retreat. We do not blame Captain Fowke ; he 
bnrl IjTcn wafted into a false position, and it would be to set up n 
more than Roman stnndfird to assert that he was in any wa« 
liound to refuse an offer so abnnrmallv advantageous as lliot o! 
becoming jxr mihtm architect of the world's biggest buildint^. 
How far Uiose who placed him tlierc were alive to the « 
ceptional importance of their own act is a very different questi 
on which society has long formed it< verdict. The presence of 
the Jilwenec of the rentrol dome was. after all, on immntcriaj 
consideration in the value of the building. If it had been carrie 
out, it Mould have been a monument of purpoM-'css cost am 
ineftective bulk. Its al»rnre only <Ti*ates a vast solecism U 
purposeless, as inefTcctire, and as needlessly costly iu proportio: 
to its cubic contents. 

The nlaerity with which the Commissioners bustled fnrwtt: 
t<i couBole the public for the loss of the central pile by a &hon 
of cheap prints of what they were to get. bad not a reassurl 
cflcct. There was soirn-diing itnatimt/ about the whole buildlDi 
with its permanent and its non-permanent portions ; and 
faidenusness was of that genuine stam p which appeals as forcibly 
tbo instincts of the million as to the science of the expert. Ev 
child could iLsk what was the use or the beauty of that in 

uiiuab. 



The Intcmationai Erhihitiou. 



1«* 



minahle ran;^ of blnnk windows alonj; the principal fa^d?. 
The hnnwbreakPTs of Brompton were m competent u the pro- 
frswm i>f thn Rn^al Aaitlemy to nppreciatn tJiP juilfj^mciit which 
ihrtfw trupitlna M i'nr Imrk as to he niriaibli* Imm that ranin 
foible, nhiirh tlt-visrtl so iinfrnliil_Y <i rurvatiire for their main 
liutrs, which (livameJ of pniiluricij^ in (jlass the Kohd rflbct unly 
attainable by opaque matenals, and which {loisiHl the rxrres- 
Cflfim almost on the? rid^ of the roof, with no otlier tamboar 
than a few strcjiks of what looketl like cheap rlap-lKnrdin}^. 
That, of all Ktvirs wliirh evrr existei), tho one to wliirh Louis 
XV. Iia« lent his valuabln nami- ronid havr piven the idea for the 
ikr-Ime of the lhinkii):,'-t(iwcr» was an ectentricitv which, by 
comparison, hardly calls for notice. Those who took the trouble 
io IiMik at tlip engrax'inff of the interior needed no prophet to 
tell tlirm that thn nave would be <!;irk without bfing' substantial ; 
that its heavy niiif, nrposin^ un a continuous clere.st(irv, violntrd 
all laws of composition ; that the* cnuplinf; of thn iron pillars in 
each bay. one in front for show and to bear up the roof, and the 
othffr beliind to prop tlie (galleries, was at boat a batkimus 
makeshift. The one-sidcdncss of the nave on tbc plan was at 
IcBitt odd. Tlie destruction of srair by the inflation at each 
end nf vast bullxjus expansions, not balancetl tjy any rrntre, 
was clearlv forefM>«'n and fruitlpssly reprr^entcd. The bumdrring' 
ingenuity by which t)ie area of tlie domes was tiltM) up un ftteps 
was pointed out. The fact that those steps, carried out in deal 
planks, never could be impressive was patent at tbc first glance. 
rhe only thin^ which out of sheer charity was sought for. but 
amid not be found, was Mimcthing to praise. U|X)n the w}ioIe, 
the annexes, being- tnereir shi^ds, wen? justly considrrc-d the 
most successful features. 'i*he buildint;: yrew, and men found 
out how much their anticipation* had Cilh-n short of the pop- 
tmtoua reality. The glass dumes were far from raising hopes; 
yel few forecast the actual effect of these tumid bubblrs, with 
their uncouth cuiratQre, tlieir g;i1dcd spikes atop, their thin 
beggarly tambour uf iron clap-Ujardiog, their green and half- 
imnsmT<^t^ tint of gooBclnhry. 1^ideou^ as these domes may 
be, the ugliness oyer which diey squat is hardly less appalling. 
The cupola — a combination of architectural lines which has 
eirrciscd the wits of so many great architects from the day* of 
Augustus downwnnls — is pre-eminently an opaque body, owing 
its beauty to the comlnnation of form and of solidity : externally, 
a feature which cuts against the sky; intemally, in cases where 
the cupola stands clear and visible from the ground-floor of the 
structure — as in all the world's finest cupolas — a curvilinear 
cell, patient of colour as well as of form, arresting and satisfying 



1&8 



The International Rthilntion. 



Uie eye within its own circumscriptioD. Accordingly, 
UglitiiiK of tlie cupula, whether from its own apex, from lunettes, 
or from the tauihour, haa been a crucial test of the architect's 
capacity; while the clitiicuhy arising outuf the relation of its out-l 
wiint Ui its inward curve lias in eminent cases — such as St. !'et**r*s' 
mid Si. Paul's — been solved by the costly expedient of welding; 
together two cupolas, — the smnller enclosed by tlie larger — the 
inner one to be gazed up into, the onier one to form the sky-line. 
In every case, the use of the cupola invoked the notion of rfpmi- 
jour. It was reserved for Captain I'owkc to marry the lighting ^^ 
ofhispilo to a treatment in which the dome itself becomes a vaslfl 
one-sideil distributor of unsubdued light* over a solid and other- 
wise darkling building, and in which the relation of the outer and 
the inner dome was simply left to fare for itself by the cijM-'dient 
of diminishing the distance between the two to the thickness of a 
single piece of glass. WTiat man would dare to face tlie riilicule iff 
millions by capping Weshninster Abbey with a glass spire? Yet 
a glass spire M'ould be natural in comparison witli a glass cupola \ 
for a ifpiie is only intended to form a sky-line ; while a cupola hai 
also, as wp have shown, to sen'c an internal purpose. It is no de- 
fence of ihn monstrosity to s.iy that crystal architecture requires] 
crystjit (lotnes. It may do so ; but ('nptiLiii Kowke's creatinn wi 
as we were particularly told, not to \» a crystal palace, but a Sijiif 
constructive! ICshibitiun buihling of brick aiul iron. The flames 
iu particular, entered the fieUl in comjH'tltion with St. I'aul's an 
St. Peter's, just as the large portal was proudly proclaimed toj 
exceed the 'quantities' of the portico of the Lntcran, Tin 
advuralcs inusi not br allowed tu blow hot and cold. They started 
their coach to beat the old-i-stablished favourites on tlicir owc^j 
line, and by their performances on that line they must be judgcd^^ 
The verdict which we simply gather up from the unanimout^ 
consultation of six^iety's collective jury of simples ami of pro- 
fessors is — ignomnt, pn-sumiituous, tastelesi), extravngant failnr«u^l 
They would have domes — tlic world's biggest domes — and thejH 
thought that this bigness would be accepted in conipensatiim for 
ever)' error of taste and every' deficiency of material solidity,^^ 
There arc erroi-s of judgment which bailie the critic, becatue th^f 
obtuseness which dictated their pcr]»etration is impervious K»^ 
argument, and must he either handled by Uie unsatislnctory pro- 
cess of simple denunciation or else left alone. It is vcrv little 
pleasure for us to reiterate that tliese domes are the ne jtiu* ultra 
of architectural delinquency, because we never can be £ure that 

• Tbe glare from lla* tlvmn w so intenRe as in ihe inUdltf nf a liriglit 
Hctnnllj toklll ihc flaiiiilioK painti^d glut nt die rouixl wiadowi, ud to red 
it when Tiewd fttnn the iiaw to the ap{>earatic« of as uye<{U0 icreeB. 




TliB Intarnationai Exhibition. 



189 



tbe men who did not realise it h priori -vriU appreciate it because 
we say sn. [f we ^nt g'lnss architecture at nil, the glass dome is 
R Icptimnte ennroinitant of the glass house ; but there everything 
is struck in tlip same key. In the glass house the lijrhl is equally 
iliMtrihuted from every quarter, nnd thr> urchiteefs }>kilt is espe- 
ciallv shown in modifying its overmuch intensity. The prnpitr 
paiftllcl to a glass dome on walls df an opaque material would be 
an. opaque cupola perched on a crystal palace. The dome of 
St. 1 eter's stuck upon the Syilenham glass house would not Ixj 
more incongrunos than the Brnmpton "■Dish-covers.* Yes; but 
consider they irost so Utile for thi-ir siw?, the CominiKKioners will 
plead. Cost so little! cost more tlmn any other domes in the 
world ever did or ever will cost ; for every lartbing that they 
cost was a farthing wrenched from tlie guarantors, wrenched 
from the sight-seeing public ; sunk, for any useful object, in the 
def|w%l jxiol (if tlie Kr^l Sr.'i. Kuch dotne rn<it its ninny tliou- 
samlii, iitiil every shilltiig of those thoueands went tu build up an 
tbomination hateful to the eye and useless for the objects of the 
tlxhibition. With no domes therr would have been Uttle fear 
of s deficit; anil while the building would havn been severely 
hut jnstlv criticised, it wuuhl hanlly luive bccume a laughing- 
stock III jl collected Kurope. When Pu gin Uild the preluU- whn 
boihcnril luin to du iui|)ossibilities for tlie money, ' Add eighteen 
pence, my lord, and liare a tower and spire at once,' he hardly 
coald have anticipated that within so few years of his denth 
official Science and Art in Kngland would have challenged the 
world's admiration for Imving found the eighteen peuce and 
thrown the steeple in. With all its exuberant costliness, all its 
of afterthought in so many of its features, Westminster 
;e is a pile of which a great nation may be proud to nil 
commg genrnitions. The ni;iii wh^i mised that jialace was in 
vigDrous life when die idea of this liroinpton construction was 
in agitation. lie had not been dead a year when its design was 
flaunting in all the print-shops. So short a time did it take for 
t>fficiAl management to degrade the struggling artistic rcputatitm 
nf England. 

After the great sin of the domes, all otlier faults in the build- 
ing might sfcin, if not piirdonablc, at least eclipsed bv tlie grand 
Inmsgressinn. Ncverdieless, there is one peculiaiity i" c<»nnee- 
tioD wiU) those domes which it wo\ild not be just to its inventor 
to overlook. Thcdomcsarctwelve-sided.and the great iron piers 
of the lantern are eight in number. A professor of the Fowkesiiui 
nrchiieclure scorns the use of taml>our or pendentive. What, 
llien, could l»e done? Then; was rwmx in this dilemma for a 
itroke of ingenuity if potuiihle superior oven tu tltnt which ulruck 



L 



«ttt 



I 




out the glaa dome. After all, to put up a ^lass tU>mn wai only 
to tamper with material in wilful flismgnnl uf all lo^ic or tast?. 
Tlie prublein was, how to torcurc some pre-cxittent form as tha 
wildest imagination of no antecedent architect had ever dared to 
do. We almost despair of bcin^ abln to describe this feat by 
words, liul WD will try. ICach dome, it will bn rpmnmlwrcil, 
opens into the nave and intn tlVo transepts, while it has a lotirtb 
opening prepared for a similar extension, but cut short, and 
■erring as the etitrancc. The four angles which would be 
formed were tlie f<mr oppnin^s to meet together, as they do 
under the tower iii" Wrstminiti-r Abtwy, are, as in St, Paul's, 
sliced off^ so as to convert tlie ffround-flDor into an nrtagonal 
lantern with tour brond bides to the four cardinal openings, and 
four narrow sides where the slices come. This Jiiakes eight 
anf;l<^ instead of four, and at each angle is placed a large irocij 
pillar supporting the structure, and serving as the starting-poil 
of the eight arches of dio lantern. Of these arches, Iho fa 
which span nver the gulluries at the slices are narrmr, anil tlio 
which fijjiiii the openings are broad, each arch htAiif^ »-raieirrnI 
Captain Fowkc, having to bear up his twelve-sided dome on thesel 
eight arches, has ronstruct'.'d his four broad arches in this war. 
Take a capital X, and assume the two Imttom terminal points t4^_ 
be two of the iron pillars and die space between them tbc widtU^I 
either of tlie nave or trniiwpt, and assume that the two upper 
terminal {loints are ivspcetividv the first pair nf roupleil shafts 
cm each side of the nave or of the transept.* Wei! lltcn, Captniii^| 
Fowke has thrown two diagonal ribs across from each imn pillrtl^l 
to the coupled pier on the other side, intersecting in the middla 
and so completing the X ; and has then made his arch, by 
lining the A lictween the pillars and the ]M>int nf intcntretinn — 
thus pi'ctu-nting to the worhl die hitherto unheard-of motistntsity 
nf a crooklmckrd arch, horizontally broken at the simulated kev- 
stone which masks the angle. This be has done, not once ia 
some obscure comer, but twice four times over in the four main 
arches of the highest and most pretentious feature of the wholo 
pile. Viewed a& a piece of engineering, tlie wnrkinansliip may 
be ingenious ; hut it is a stroke of ingenuity which abandoiu all 
claim to archttcctui^l merit. 

At least it might have t>een hoped that the Science and Art 
De|Hirtiiient, with its costly staff of teachers and its bevy 
pupils, might have devised some pretty novelty in tlie capital. 



* Of mane the proportiooof lhcc&riialXi«notcorF(wt,M^dlitsat« bctv 
tbv nu'. inm piilftn aiul lliu otxi cuu|>lt.-<l ibaA is Inn tliaa botwcni mcli pilliu ii 
thr utH' \m lUc uthcr si<le, trvinu Cu Uic gresi widtli uf the navr. But (Iil- X-lil^a 
form nau'ln irtiL', 

albeit 



I 




Tftti Intematimal ExhUitiou. 



191 



■Ifaeit even in plaster, and produced some graceful contours ia 
the monldings, albeit rut in metal. The capitals and the 
aoaldings arc wortliy nf the strurturi^ which cnshrinos them. 
Tlio pl«n of chrapiicsa in t-()m|mriscm with the Paxloninn palace, 
so nnhlushiiitrlv put fiirwaril hv the IiUBltin^ adrorati's of the 
nnw buiitliii^, has been convuiientlv diopped since Sir C-harles 
Fiuc, iu a letter to the 'Times' of only a few lines lon|?, pub* 
tlid>«l an the r»ih nf May, rrmintled the public that the post of 
ibo Crystal Palace in Hyde Park plus diat of Sydenham was 
only 3^6,540^^ while that of the building "f 1862,"on the sliow* 
io^ of ita own friends, was a& it stoorl 4<1(>,()0()/. 

CapLiin I'owke's long: annexes, becauao they do not pretend 
10 bo more than sheds, are, as we have alreody said, assuming 
ibeir •lability, not s<i IkuI. They are eng-inuering works carried 
out by an engineer. The reastm why Scientrc only, without Art, 
hts hail tu do wiUi their ctinstruction, is, that dicy Htand on 

pond which, by the defunct project, would havo been ron- 
ited to various permanent temples of the Muses, so no tnm 
anticipated or provided for their continuance. 

Of course, no visitor to the Exhibition who has made his first 
aoquuntintH! with it since dii> nprnin^ can fairly judge of its 
luwed areliitcetural merit, since it has |>assei1*thruu(;h ^[r, Grace's 
transmutini; hands. His |H?rfi>rmancea arc, undniibtediv, i>pen tn 
rritiriiim, and in mrticular we think certain appositions uf blue 
and ri-d rloso to the clerestory windows migrht have been recon- 
sidered. But, as a whole, when the roilway-siwod at which he 
lud to work, and when the imjMJSsibilily under which he lnhoun>d 
of obtaining; ,i fair sight uf his own work, are considered, we 
iRDtt sny that Mr. Crace has very honourably and nbly acquitted 
btmsrlf ofa work which, lu less wilUnj^ hands, would have been 
both Uiankless and impossible. He deserves particular credit 
ibr haviuj; proposed nil tliruut^h to subordinate his own colora- 
tion to tlie advantage of the diint;s nxlubitcd. 

The mnml we should venture to dmw from this arehitectnral 
fiasco is that, as we know tm the best of authority that * a donble- 
miiuleil mail is unstable in all his ways,' so the world has now 
hiamml tho instabUity and tlie ntfence of a double-minded build- 
ing, and it hna reseiitii) it arcunlii^rly. The Kxhibition shed, 
bovever unsightly, would have bi*en tolerated. A permanent 
' P^ace,' as it is now the fudiion to call every largt- structure, 
woald have fairly roprescnlrd the objects of those who desired to 
make llnunplon the artistic and litenuT centre of Lomlon and 
the world. But here was a hytmd, which woidd and which 
would not claim to be permanent — o thing in which tJje most 
ilixtracting effects and the most lavish waste of money were 

resericd 



reserved for Uiat part wLich prt>fessed to be tempomrv. The 
notion of tlie domes beinjif retained as an eternal spectacle 
from Hyde Park and the Soutli-Wcstcm line wtis nn tdco sulQ>j 
riently liumiliAtinK' to national self-rcs|>ect. But, on t}ic other] 
side, it was di/Bt-ult to nnticijiuU; that Kuch hig surn& would Iin.va1 
been devotcil to such big iiiRatiuiis merely to serve as a suinmer'a 
pastime and then be forgotten. Again, if the domes and tlie 
nave went down, how utterly dull Mould be the aspect of thttj 
residum'v pile. Hideous as tbi>sc dome» ai-e, their hideousness isj 
of the heroic and truculent order. Without them and the navsj 
the building would simply consist of the endless, drear\' range of] 
magnilir-d stables along the Cromwell Koad, flanket] by the 
Louis XV'. }>avilioiis, and of that nondescript gaxebo with the 
ruddled back-front which i» now sacred to tlie hosi)itnlities 
M, Veillard and ^fr. Morrish. All that is now Exhibition, bi 
rontrasted with picture-gallery or eating-room, would revert lo tlial 
primitive condition nf a rubbish-heap and a nettle-bed. Under! 
either altemntive England will have built in liasto lo repent at 
leisure. If the iron-suppurteil gIas»-roofed sheds remain, Europe,] 
overnni with t-rystal pnlaces, will point to the. domes and rho 
courts, and sav that thrsc mnnunients of Hritish iillicinl lasti* arci 
the biuest and the most purjMJsidess crystallt^-rhalylicate hnbbh 
which earili has yet egurgitated. If the galleries alone at 
spared, we shall owe to Science and Art a public building whichj 
has straywl over more rttod* of ground and devourwl morel 
bricks Ut less advantage than anv structure ever yet niised l> 
tween, in tinm and in spare, ISahylnii and C'liicagi>. The thin 
altrrnative of a fioiuicial failure involving entire demotilio 
would be a very costly exemplificatioa — well deseri'ed, ihougb^ 
not agreeable ttt the guarantors — of the parabolic warning to sit 
down and count llie cost before beginning the tower. 

Friendlv critirSf to be sure, l<Hik nmculnr as tli<>v pass alois 
tlie empty window sjiaces, and drop important wonU iinplvingfl 
some new revelation of art-processes suited to the English climateV 
— expansive, out-of-iloor mosaics, hard and cheap, capable of 
being washed, yet incorrosiblc. The huge cartoon in the ^ Works 
of Art on loan', Exhibition at the South KrnsingCon Museum 
adumbrates, we are told, this prowss. Wc should Ik* the last toj 
discourage any well-conct-ivrti project for the exterior dL-ctiralitit 
of London buildings suited to LoikIihi atmosphere, for we bavi 
long considered that to be a prime deaidenttum. All we say in,] 
why huUd up so vile a Ix»d\ on which to make yuur iij)CTimenl?| 
Patient and remedy are bodi of them the work of your hands 
If you are polychrotnatically inclined, at least |jaint a Venus, am 
do not bedizen a squaw. 



The Inlernational Exhilition, 



1«8 



W« fear that we ouimit compliment the (Tommiuioners by the 
UMitiuD that the «xcellf!nce of their arrangcmentg has covered 
the defticts of the building. The terrible mismanafrcment by 
trbirh cx}iibiUirs worn sumetimes permitted — sometimes, even, 
as in the case of tlie food tru|tliy, iirg;pd— to cli^ up the nave 
with every species of inconf*ruoiu oltstruclion, 1ms l>eeti so fully 
cxpofted, and the CoDimi»sion have, we doubt not, paid mt 
hcavUy for the partial rectification of their error, that we should 
have gladly passed this topic over. Dut we are bound to advert 
to it as a proof of the diiiregard of common prcH^autions aiul 
cominnn calculations of size and height, which in the case of a 
builder leads to accidents destructive of life and projierty, and 
in the case of a general to one of those exceptional events which 
stamp the defeated captain to all ages with the unenviable noto- 
riety of total incapacity. Even the greatest failures have seldom 
resulted from a total forgetfulness of every incident of success, 
lo nearly every case details are laliorifmsly pondered over, 
and perhaps ably plaaned ; but some single important ele- 
ment has been overlooked, and its absence is sufficient lo defeat 
the best' for m<M] combinations contrived in disregard of its indis> 
jMrnsability. The ball m.iy l>e disposed reganlless of expense — 
the brightest tlowers, tlie most artistirally-ttrraii£;ed lights, the 
amplest supper, the in{»t acromplishod band may all be pro- 
s'ide<l, only the lady of the house may have forgotten that men- 
sursliun forbiils lirr to hold more than 600, and so her attempting 
to squeeze in IbO will have nullifietl all her forethought, all her 
taste, and all her cxpener, and only succeeded in rendering her 
whole assembly thoroughlv wretched. 

The plotting out of the nave was just toch a cmcial test of 
the capacity of the workmen for their work. It is dillictdt to 
imagine that the Conimitision could have faileil to foresee that 
erery exhibitor would scramble for his hit of that favoured 
ground, and that it was the base of the whole arrangement. 
If so, they ought to have apprehended tliat their only chance 
of success lay in making a plan and in sticking to a plan. The 
circumstance on which tliat plan should have been founded 
was the breadth of the nave — the one redeeming feature of 
the building. That breadth would have enabled them to 
arrange the space either for one central line of objects, as in 
1851, or for two lines, with a wide avenue down the middle. 
Tlie more clniinants they had to judge Ixrtween, the easier wa» 
the Xusk of refusal. Those who aspired, whether Knglish or 
foreigaers, to an allotment of the favoureil area, were bound to 
have produced the dimensions and the designs of the objects or 
stnicttin-9 with which tliey were competing. There ought to 
Vol. 112. — No. 223. " O have 



have been one moment when Uie buildinf^ opOTations were com- 
parativel)' finished and before the fittings bad begutL Tins 
moment would have lieen the time to hove ndjudifaUsi on the 
distribiitinn of thr nave objrcts (wc cannot In'ing nurst-Ircit to cal]^ 
them ' trophiffs'). All tlint wax wanted was a plan of the area»^ 
a list of the objects with their desi^rns, and a bcv}* of sappers to 
oJfer up planks and p<>lrs at the required heifrhu and breadths. 
If possible also there nuglit to have been Mmie cleviitiKl |H)int uf 
Ticw from whidi to judge of the whole elTeet. Tliis |minl of 
view was ju&t the defieienty, for between the galleries which .^ 
(TOSS the ends of the building and the nave itself at ttiat momentA 
were interposed the vast intricate scaffoldings of the cupolas.^ 
But notwithslauding tliia want, the ulemeatia on which to form a 
decision were sufficiently- numeious and suflicienllv distinct to 
have ]e<l any body of men, except our Conuni&sioners, to safe 
conclusions. What they did no one who saw the nave in its 
first condition can ever to his last hour forget, and those wlio 
were not so privileged have a lively portraiture of the scene &tfl 
page 152 of Mr. HoUingshead's 'History of the International Kr-^^ 
bibition.' The (jiroves of lilarney were order and good taste in 
comparison with the conglomeration of telescopes, organs, light- 
houst-s, fountains, obelisks, piekles, furs, stulVs, porrelain, dolls, 
rocking-horses, alabasters, stcarine, and Lady Godiva, wLich 
rctlured the nave t4> a striking similitude of a traveller's dt^si :ri ptinn 
of Hug-lane, Canton. We grant that some few of the ugliest anil 
biggest obstructions were removed in the few days before May 1 ; 
wu grant that a great many mure were put to their paces during 
the thriM.' first weeks of May, to the equal damage of their tle- 
tudetl exhibitors and discomfort of tin; jiublic who came bi 
see a finisheil sight; we grant that the brilliant thought flashed 
across some official mind that there were shrubs at Kew which ^ 
might with artistic advantage be distributed among the contii-H 
butions; we grant that busts and statues, originally put aliout in 
dark corners in favour nf the trnphieSs have been brought fom'ard 
oo their eclipse ; wc gmnt that bv means of hustling, and twisting, 
and changing, something like a central avenue has lieeii obtained. 
When we have granted all this, wc arc constrained to add that these 
ameliorations were not taken in hand till a hurst of complaint and 
of dorision, unexamplml in its intensity, from press and private 
critic, had pierced the panels of the Ixiard-rotim dimr. N'ot to 
have listened to this would have been to have sinned heroically, 
aiul hernir action ol any sort was not in favour with tlicCommis- 
ftion. 'JTiev simply actril like any other weak lulministrators — 
they called up a dictator from the mnks, and hid llieir faces while fl 
lie worked. The pica that the nave, thanks to Mr. Cole, is now ^ 

inditforentlj 



I 



TV SUentatumal Ezhibitim. 195 

indifiereiitlr well amngcd, mar be admitted without getting rid 
of dae fact that, as the Commissioners left it, it was the tie jJus 
ultra of Iwingtiiig inefficiencj. 

We are not blind to the considnation that the foreigner is as 
great an oBender as the Englishman. The long French screen is 
in itself a aerioos obstacle to sight and transit, and the candle 
cases frmn the rival kingdoms of Belgium and Holland mav 
eqnallj compete in ugliness and incommodiousness. The English 
dome, where Minton's fountain stood almost alone, furnished a 
atrildng contrast to the complicated masses of show-cases which 
fill the western area, partly, no doubt, because the orchestra stoixl 
diere on the opening day. This solitarr success was not over- 
looked bj the officials who had permitted the Tasmanian boats 
and the Canadian deals to intrude themselves before Hnnlman's 
elaborate painted glass, so they took the earliest opjiortunity of 
lioisting op the Victoria gold obelisk in its immediate rear. 
Messrs. Minton must be the most patient of mortals not to have 
protested loudly and publicly against the great wrong which has 
been perpetrated in placing this erection in the particular spot 
where it most effectually mars and eclipses their graceful creation. 
Bnt we do not admit the delinquencies of the foreign exhibitors 
as any excuse for the blunders of the English Commission. If 
those gentlemen fear to regulate the caprices of their friends «%'er 
the sea, they simply prove themselves not strong enough for their 
place. One of their mismanagements has not and never can be 
rectified. The north side of the English portion of the nave had 
been assigned to the wide class of furniture, and it had b<*en the 
intention of the exhibitors in that department to have united in 
displaying their richest productions on the main line and in 
decotating the courts under the gallery, so as to contribute most 
effisctoally to the whole effect. But the Commissioners allowed 
themselves to listen to the carpet-makers and gave up the par- 
titions between those courts to their comparatively ineffective 
productions, while the principal w^orks in furniture have been 
baiushed to a back court. We believe the carpet-makers 
threatened a secession. The result is, tliat a very im]iortant 
portion of the whole exhibition, one of the first which is visitw! 
by the stranger who enters, as the greatest number do, from the 
east, is one of the least attractive to the casual public, instead 
of forming a principal element of the general attractiveness. 

Here we suppose, as everywhere, the Commissioners' fears 
betrayed them. The weight of the guarantors' supplicatory 
purses weighed on their souls, ignorant as they were that tlie 
first secret of maintaining credit is to look credit and to talk 
credit. The man who is always whining of his poverty and 

o 2 doing 



doing little shabby things, need never he rarprised if he is taken 
for aud treated as a perwAi of problematic income. A Rojral 
Coinmissioa which grrudgfnJ its p^istajje-slamps f«r its own nfficial 
comniUDtcati<im, which did not tliilo imt ndmisKions ti> its own 
jurors till it liad by Its hesilation rubbed tht* act of its frnire, and 
wliirb trouiiti^d the j^ains od every catalogue aold, could hardly 
have expected to win that public confidtriKT wliicli would have 
been *o cflicacinus to the permanent surce&s of the Exhibition. 

TTiL- Commissioners were not much more lucky in their pub- 
lications than tUev wero in the building and its arrniigeinenls. 
The humiliation to which they had to submit in withdrawing 
Mr. Palgravc's red hnndbonk, after owninp tlmt their interest in 
it was measured by 2f/. for cnrh copy sold, is punishment enough 
for the fully which they committed in sanctioning a lxH>k which^ 
though bearing a name so rt«|>ectahie, had the misfortune of 
alike ofTeoding the criticised by its freedom and the critics by the 
rrudenesB of its composition. Mr. John Hollingshead, bavii^ 
adopted the wiser though less ^jjartin system «( general laitda^ 
tinn, has been allowi-d tn sell in i>pare ' A ('tincise llistory of 
the Intematiimal Exlubition of 1H()2, its rise and nrogrras, its 
building and features, and a summary of all former Kxhibitions. 
liiustroted. Printed for Her Majesty's Commissioners ' (to re- 
capitulote its somewhat dithymmbic title.) This Hollings- 
hrtul's Clirontrln of the ninptirrnth century is a work in which a 
large! amount ol misi'clliineous information is served up in a style 
which often leniinds the retrospective reader by its gaiTuIou* pom- 
posity, less of the quaint annalist of the sixteenth century than 
of Dr. Dillon's imrrativc of the lyjrd Mayor's pn>gress to Oiford. 
The Cominissiuners of 1851 nwjuired much credit by their pub- 
lication of the lllu»trsted Catalogue and of the volumes of Jury 
Rejiortii, and 1802 was of course expected to give birth to similar 
publications. This was an opportunity too good to be lost to 
show liow much the new authorities hail improved upon their 
more simple-minded predecessors. The Catalogue of ls51 was 
intended as a reconl of the sight-^tiic work of 1862 as a milcb- 
cow to the Commissioners and an a<t vert i sing- van to the con- 
tributors. Its pages were tlimwn into the market, and the 
niddest sum uf o/. each was 6xed upon as the value of a 
self-iiiKcrtcd notice iu a work, of which by the end of June only 
six parts or twelve rla!>iw>s had ap|ieareil, without any n-tum 
having been made to the disapjtoiuted exhibitors for the 
delay. But if the Commissioners charged 5/. for every page, 
and if they allowed the exhibitors in addition to pnv for their 
own wiMxlcuts, they were at least U*o liberal to exercise any 
vexatious censorship over the matter or the woodcufas roniri- 

butcd. 



I 



d 



The Interaaiional EihibitioiL 



197 



Soted, Accordingly, a large wedding-cake occupies one entire, 
page; levcral contributors cram the bimk with reiterated ct _ 
grarinf^of the ir-wlnU which thev had received at the Exhibitions' 
of 1851 and 1S55 ; two bulls' Leads top the piifT of a vendor of 
mnstanl, starch, an<i blue ; one exhibitor, not satisfictl with hovjng' 
rf^z-ived a lestiinonlnl from Lloyd's, actiintly gives a fac-simile of 
tlie liignatun-s ; and a dcalrr iii snucrfi at Hirnam demotes ncnrlv 
a page to the figures of tlirc;c bottleii witii their fancy lal)els. But 
the prize of vulgarity, bad such been offered, would, as far as the 
Cntnloguc has vet gone, been justly assignable to Mr, Frederick 
V ersuiuun, exliibitor of ' ladies atitillaininable [«cl lifn-preservcr ' 
(part i., page 51), who tn'ats tin? publie to b sensation uumh-ut 
of one young ladv with the skirt uf her crinoline in a blaze, and 
another young lady screaming at the sight — in design and execu- 
tion alwut equal to the fami>us * Ha ! cured in an instant' tiwthacbc 
print, or to that gentleman with the particoloured bead, so 
umiliar to us in the pages of our Bmd&haw. 

The Gimiuissioners had still a chance left of redeeming their 
literary cre<lit by undertaking the publication of the J ur}* Kejwrts 
in a manner worthy of the occasion, and tliey allowed the Society 
of Arts to take this office off their hands. The pretext will of 
CDurte be urged that the Exhibition itself is but the emanation 
of chat Society, and that, in allowing it to umlcrtakf^ the literary 
work in connection with the Exhibition, the Commissioners 
merely distributed the labour among the persons most coniiwicnt 
to perform it. But this excuse blinks the main nuestiim. nhicli 
is one of propriety and not of pocket. No one would have blamed 
the Conimissiun fur seeking its editors out of that Society if it 
pleasefl, for no one expected that Lord Uranville would spend his 
ermings orer proof-sheets. But the ostentatious announi-emcnt 
that the Rnval Commission is either too pcK>r or too timid to risk 
making itself n*5)ionsiblc for the publication uf the work, which 
was at once to si*r\'c as the official record and the practical moral 
of its proceedings, was a confession too humiliating, one would 
bare thought, to have been wrnng from it even by the instances 
of a Icgitm of misgiving guarantors. It was as if the House of 
Commons had lK>gged tlie Social Science Congress to relieve it of 
the rcsponitibilitf' of printing its Blue-books. 

We have no sympathy m ith that philosophy which laughs at 
mankind's natural appetency for dress as an clement of pcHnp 
and ceremony. Tliis appetency always has existed, and it always 
will exist till the crack of doom, it is fouml in Fnjuce and in 
DahomeTt and, until the recent incTeasc of tlie regular army. 
New York was fain to make the best of the uniform of its fire- 
brigade. That the Court dress of England should hap|ien to be 

among 



among the ugliest of conceivable vestments is the mere accident 
of the divergence of state and ordinnry hnbilimcnt, wluch was E 
collnteral result of the French Revolution stereotyping the evening 
dress uf Louis XVI.'s time as the ' Court habit,** and clothing ui> in 
the morning or at ordinary parties * after the ideas of 1 789,' Pre- 
vious to that event, while men *gladio cincti ' still imlulgetl in 
rich materials and bright rolours, there was no such thing as a 
'court' dress genorically different from 'evening' dress. It wa* 
simply n (juestion of degree in the case of persons not entillcK) to 
an official garb, who were naturally accustomeil (o apjM-ar in their 
best rull-dres& on the grc-atest occasions. We do not accordingly 
blame the (>>mmissioneTs for trying to make the opening on May 1 
a Court ilrvoi ceremonial ; but we must observe that^ wiUi their 
usual luck, thev inam-d n gixMl idea, Tw(t exjMHiirnts wen; o]>en 
for iheni. Kitber they shuuUl have given places in the procession 
to all who accepted the * official * invitation, and thus converted a 
poor and straggling display into an Imposing demoastraticm ; or 
they should hare gone a tittle further, and, without ordering any- 
thing, luive put it to the good taste of tlic whole array of season- 
ticket holders to appear in their best to swell the jiomp. We ore 
sure the KifltHlom of England would itot have been deaf to tuch an 
appeal. As It Mas, they did neither. The only quid pro quo they 
offered to shorts and silks was a prom isc of front scats, which simply 
affronted the graver class who stuck to swallow-tails and trowsers, 
and which was, after all, not performed, while the body of the 
building looke<l as black and uninviting as a public meeting in 
Freemasons' Hall, In fact, making the galleries aiKl not the 
area the place of honour was a great mistake ; as those who bad 
the pleasure of seeing Lord Granville address the Duke of Cam- 
bridge and Lord VVestbury in dumb show could not hear one 
note of music, and those who enjoyed the music missed the 
ceremony. In this respect they have mended their ways in the 
programme fur the distribution of prizes on July 11 ; not »o in 
another resjiect to which we must n«-xt call attention. 

The compofiition of the procession showed the narrowness of 
those who had the ortlering of it. It was intended to have its 
official side, and ii bad it. It was also intended to have its scientific 
and artistic side, a« tbo inauguration of the great metropoUtut 

* ll ronn nnl be forgouen thkt tli« Conrt irtu hat mfSenA a furtb«r dhad- 
TaiilitE>^ iu th« «c<;iKiroy which dictali^B cloib u iu d&uaI roatrnoL It wu ateaiil 
for velvet, »n(l mitt brtl whra black. Nn one wlm but *fen the lole and ih« 
proKiit Speaker Btid Liml Chi-lm«ford In ihe Mack vclvec Court irvM. huitittilc vo 
tfa« grave digniliea wbich thejr hsw filKtl. can deny (bal it is very bM-omin^ on a 
hiudwme num. We rvtneubtr the Bmutina which the late Lord FiuwiUiuu 
mule lipr ■ppt-nring bI a \tY^ in > blsck relret tuit, *ct tiffhy ifa« Oarl«r. Uc 
wu nuversall^ sJmitted to be lh« b«tt dmi«d mso at Sl Juues'i. 

basilica 



I 

I 
1 



TTie hitejTiatwnal ExhihifioiL 



199 



basilica devoted to the culture of the Muses ami of the grimy 
nvtnnliH of stpnm ami ciml. We no Itin^r rmplo^ syniboliral 
rppri'si-ntatlfjns \n tmr pnMressimis, execpt on Lord Major's day 

'ill I^ihIod and Lady Gcidiva's day at Coventry, but in compensa- 
tion we expect to sec representative men Malkinfrout their respec- 
tive <rhanit-t<Trs, Lrt us see liow far the Coinmiisiun pntvidect 
ihe-se men. In projxjrtion as the more liberal commercial leg-isla- 
tion of modem limes has diminiithed the significance of commer- 
cial g'uilils, so, on the other hand, has the importance of volontary 

t»Mocifttion9 for intellectual ends been more and more wideir 
scognised. In L<>ndnn alone there are more sftrietics than we 
ran venture to enumerate ; tfvery one of them — to the credit of 
tlie nation — de[)ending for its existence on the unpaid and 
unjcn^di;ed labours of men, all of them respectable, and many 
clistin<nii8hed by talents and social position, each of which had 
an interest, more or less extensive, in some department of the 
Exhibitinn. These societies wanted neither monev m»r me<lals; 
bat a place in tlic cen-moni:il would Itavr br>cn a proper rrco^^ni- 
lion of their services in those pursuits for which tlii-y and the 
Exhibition alike existed. Two of them did walk, and these were 
the Society of Arts, which had a material interest in the whole 
aflair, and the Horticultural Society, proud of its neighhimrhoori 
and its lien on the till. These were tlit? inevitable family circle, ti> 

^yhich llic Dish-covers had to l>e at home, aud their exclusive pre- 
invc Urom ptonised the ceremonial. 13ut where were the other 
important bodies — some ancient, some of our own generation — 
mostlv tnroqMirated by chartirr, endoweil with various privileges 
and di^iities in furtherance of theirrespectivcobjects, all of which 
bad an equitable claim to appear by official representation on such 
an occasion ? We need only recapitulate the Royal Society, the 
Society of Antiquaries, the rtoyal Academy, the Royal Swiety of 
Liti.*rature, die lu>Yal Institute of Rritish Architects, the Institute 
of Civil Engineers, and the Royal Geographical Society. We 
mention tliese distinguished Associations in no exclusive spirit. 
It would have been politic to have extended the invitations 
much further, but these Institutions bad a specific equitable 
claim for recognition; while, as it is, they and the Exhibition 
stood divorced at a moment when a loiiKer-sIghtetl policv would 
have striven tu build up a broad and solid popularity on tlicir 
Dnite<l sufTrap^s. VVe neither expect nor desire the consummation 
of the scheme which is to centralize civiliTation in tlie tract of 
ground between Hyde Park and the Fulham Road ; but certainly, 
if its promoters liad desired to ruin their own plans, they could 
not have chosen a wiser course. The complex ingenuity which 
succeeded in afironting Verdi, mortifying Dr. Bennett, and 

cxpuititig 






exposing M. Costa, is, comparatively speaking, a private matter, 
on wincK it docs not come within our scope to ilwcll. We awail 
with curiosity the results of July 11. As It is^ the public does 
not uxm inclined to break out into much enthusiasm at the 
prospects of a cercmonv which bears a close iamily likeness to a 
school s{>eech-dav on a llrobdi^ag scale; in which the heads 
of the leading; 5rms in HirminKham and Lancashire will pro- 
bably represent the g«Hjd Uttlo boys in round jackets ami wliitw 
ducks. Indeed the irreverent question is asked, Why give 
medals at nil? Juries to report are no doubt desirabte. But 
tbey are called away from thtiir legitimate functions by bein^ 
reduceil to the duties of a wholesale distribution of one uniform 
low-level token of recognition. Noljody will be much flattered ; 
and many rann(»t fail to be deeply mortified at an arrangremenl 
whicli cannot do more fur Maud.slav nr Miiitoii, Sevres or tbo 
I'ajKil munufactury, than fur tiic illustrious pioneer of reformed 
bootjacks. It is no answer to point out that the introduction of 
' honourable mention ' has somewhat rectified the objection in a 
roundalwut way. The system of trraduntcd reward* has also its 
own appropriate objections ; and tlie unb^iught tnfui'Rial appro- 
bation of capable judges is the most natural and tlie best reward 
to which the conscientious exhibitor can took forward. 

But enough of buildings, books, ami Commissioners. We 
gladly pass on to the more pleasant and more instructive task of ^ 
examining the thinjj^s exhibited.* The reasonable anticipatioafl 
with which the present Exhibition was started was that of a 
marked progress since 1851. To quote but one out of many 
inventions which had uken gigantic strides during that periotl, — 
photography was then in its infancy ; now it is the livelihood nf 
thousands and the recreation of tens of thousands. We sliall not 
dilate upon the items of industrial progress, such as the sub* 
atitution of eJectricity for the casting of statues, and for tb* 
costly old methods of gilding and silvering, or the new dyeing 
processes, interesting as they are, or, though we do not forget 
their sur])jiS3ing imjHirtance, vi\nm the developmmts of ma- 
chinery, whic-h wnulil li^id ns far Itevond our limits; nor upon 
ihc picture galleries, for thrae present no {xtint of comparisoD 
with 1^61. and are rather a supplemeut to tlian a portion of 
an Exhibition conceived on the type of Its predecessor. That 
Kxhibition started fn>m raw material and industry simple. In its 
next chapter, as it were, it showed the niachtuery of that industry 

* • Exhibits ' Droniptouio^ We tnut that on fiitnra «Htor of Noah Wsteter 
will fcwl il bis dulj to include this word, or the Brill greater shnininslioii ' Siuisxe.' 
We nl»o truit that be will not fed it Dcc«uary to expUio * uopbj ' si ' N. 8. as 
obsiicle.' 

ia 





TTktf Ttiifimational ExhibitiotL 



£01 



in its double aspect of liein^, by its intrinsic mechsnism, among' i 
hi^est pnxluL'ta uf human intlustrv, ami l>v thi> piir|M)rt of thi 
meu'liauisin (Uu prtKluwr of n-sults worthy of stutlv on tlieir own 
account even irrespective of the means eiii|il(iycd,* It tcrniiiiatrcl 
deap in that bonlcr-lnnd l>ctwcen indu&try and pure art, which 
it kppears to be the mi»sion of our age to explore and to mnp, 
uid in which we way hope to make good our footing; now that 
we have learned not to use 'arti&t* assvnonymoua with * painter,' 
and 'art* with 'jiatnting.* It is in its aspect of a great ex- 
ponent of this which wo may term constructive ait — in op|>o8i- 
tion to the mimetic art of paintinrr and sculpture — that we shall 
ckieflv examine the new Lxhibition, with a hope of deriving 
■ODie farts for our rmnfort or our admonition as to the present 
ooudition of art-feeling in Kn^lancl. As a first step in the 
investifrntion, we must briefly visit the phenomena of industrial 
art in the other rountries contnbutinj; to the World's Fair. 

But first let us notice once for all, in order to blame and to 
pass on, that, while art has certainly mnile deciilnl progress 
between the two dates, so have also pufTery anel shojipinpss. 
181)2 is better and it is worse than l>i51. It would be a thank- 
ien Uuk to recapitulate its points of deterioration ; the specimens 
which we have given of llic lllustmted Catalog-ue tndic«te their 
nature. VVe wish to deal, as it were, with the exhibition within 
the Exluhitioii, ami carnass tlie influence, tor ^ikkI ur liad, of 
llie various ohiects whicli liave an art intention, Mhether vicious 
or exalted. As for the thinc's which arc made to sell and not to 
show, we had rather not help to advertise them by any parti- 
cular dispraise.*. Tliey clog the Exhibition, they vitiate the 
perreptioiis i]f the bewildered million, they damage the commer- 
cial chances of the conscientious manufacturer. In other respects, 
they no more beluuK to the enterprise than the liottled stout and 
the ices which are daily consumed within tlie building. At worst 
there is one h<i]>efui sign in the more technical appreciation 
which critics endeavour to form of the affair tlian they attempted 
on the former occasion. Uncritical gitod- humour prevailrd in 
1651. Art-talk was then still but a dialect, extensively studied 
and honoured with lip-worship; but 'fine' and 'pretty' cx- 
bausU-'d the popular phraseology. The rich expanse of malachite 
in the DemldnfT doors provoked universal praise, and not a voire 
was misetl to denifunce dii; insipidity of tiie design. The Aus- 
trian furniture was a general favourite, and no one rose to prove 



^ • This 11 ft ^i«tiiifriftn too often ofer1ook«d. Two looms upon exsMljr ihv 

nmc yriaciyW. but out of llirm Mt to th« agliMl sad tlii; other (o the mMi brsn* 

I tiful paUtTQ, arc equally vUEtic as /rorfMMtf maeltia«> } u art />iWuc«ft Uiej lwv« 

H a very diJK-reat tbIik. 



Its 



its vnnl of Bimnlicity. What »ha.U we saj of the fashion 
judf^ni; in lH<>2r Honestly, wc must reply that this in one uf 
tliose questions which may, with equal truthfulness, l)e answered 
in very »lilTcrcnt ways. We believe that, if the truth be spukeo, the 
prcsi-nt Kxhibitton will be found to hen g;reat scene uf disenchant- 
meuts on all sides. The ardent votaries of art-projn'ess upon high 
principles will have discovered how strong a hold the old con- 
ventional trivialities still retain on the purses of the purebasing 
public; and the Gallios will, for the first time, have binm 
made sensible of n movement which has been collecting; its 
forces while they were Ia/.i!v repeating their antiquated formulas. 
With whichever side the victory may ultimately rest, it will not 
be the direct results of the Exhibition, taken hy themselves, that ' 
wilt deride, hut the grailiml working of ideas, lirst sown in many 
minds within its courts, but germinntin;^ in (|uiet \i>ng after the 
din and tlie excitement of the Uromptnn show have passed away. 
We need not linger long in lands where for many genemtions 
art has be<^ I'rminine, not masruline, in its rliararterislies : among 
people who work from the lu-art and not by the head,* by iusliiict 
tiut by r(*ason ; in those oM OrientJit regions where the apprecia* 
tiunofcolour is instinctive; where the patient manipulation of detail 
knows no fatigue ; where the goldsmith and the jeweller arc held 
in universal honour; where each nationality has its own limited 
scries of forms, within which the artificer labours successfully, 
but beyond which he does ni>t seem gifted to advance. India 
on the one side, and Turkey on the other, are tlm limits of this 
feminine phase of art as exhibited at Rrompton. Its educational 
value to us has not been sufficiendv appreciated as our teacher in 
points in which the art of Europe — the art, iliat is, of tlie head. 
and not alone uf the heart — is apt to be most deficient : such aa\ 
the jubilant use of colour, the fearless employment of costlyJ 
material, the delicate handling of minute detail. These, we say,i 
are feminine attributes; and tlie masculine art of Europe — tha\ 
art which is founded nn the study of the human figure — must^ 
not despise Oieir gracefulness if it aspires to tread the path of 
perfection. As it is, we arc sorry to see, in some instances, is.^ 
conirary influence at work, and the native instinct vitiated bffl 

* l^e bi»tury ot Europe, from the cftrli«sl to the IstMl agvs, prov«t what niiglil 
l««oi St firtt sifhl & panulox, tbul Hk art of Ih« b«»d u thv art which its iQoct 
pngrcMive uu dsring. To taki; Ibr case odIjt uf Unlj, what «u iIil- iTthDologinl 
composition of the medtBral and ifao rvQuiManc^ Italiui? He wns partly Uiis 
dowcodaot of that old lulifto itock to whom tbc welt-ktiuwu * Excudcui alti,' ate 
winiing baid bMo ftddreued, partly of tbe Nurilivru iribvs who swarmed dowv 
upon tbe Saath, so (fast on neithOT aiilf rould bo boast flf nstunill)' artistic 
tracMtort. Yet s long eoatwe of nationul rducadoD uader fsvonrabl« circuuMtanees 
hai mads tlw aiedlitTBl aod modcni ItAliooi a tTpolif utUtui ntce. Tber* U 
much hope for Euglaud ia this eotuidention. 

a ridiculoos 



i 



The Jntemational Exhihituinu 



sot 



ft rjtliculous apinfc of tbc vulgar rorms of European trade pro- 
duction, lit the ludiaii deitArtment, for iDstancc, bv tliL* shIo 
of rirli stuflit and delicate Bombay work, we behold tAblc5, 
wfas, and pianoti. cnn'cd far awav by native finf^cn, bot jno< 
lied Tor tlie Hurti|x>aii ninrket ujKin forms which are alrcadyi 
lilv looked npnn at home as vuli^ar and antrdntcd. 
aboormnl civilixation — not Kuropean, bat not Oriental eithnr, agj 
India and Islam arc Orienul — of the three-quarters civilij!«d 
Tartars of China ami Japan must not detain us, for we have to pass 
un to tliosp i-cmnlr!es, living in or pc«>pled by Christian Kurupe, 
wbn have seriously L-iitored the lists ot the great tauriianirnt. 

Ku.Hsia, if n4)t actually retro^^ssivc, is stationary, and to h0^ 
itationary with aurli an cnijiire is next doiir to bf.'in}r retro-' 
ereMlvo. Sunu- sili^cr and enamelled bookbindings and plate 
chiefty for ckurrh purposes^ eKhihiting a style combininj^ modcra 
fn>lin^ ^vith reminiscences of Byzantine, of renoisaance, and even, 
like it£ protntvpe, of the flamb<>yant which we suspect to have 
peusetl from Poland into Muscovy, with some i^raceful ideas lK»r- 
rowed from tlic native art nf ('irc-assia, and a huge vigorous mosaic 
of i>t. Nicholas on a gi»ld jfround, flanked by two others of n more 
recCDt lyp**. sum up die novelties which this vast realm ron- 
tribntes. The larpe Imperial porrelain vases are merely gfMKl 
imitations on aCaPsarian scale of Sl-vres. The floral incrustations, 
follow tlie pietra dura of Flormrc ; and the strawberries, currants, 
Ijerbprrie^, and rasplierries, mimicked in half- transjwi rent stones, 
ore neither l»ettiRr n<»r worse than tlie similar mimicries of 1851 ; 
while at the Im'sI it is an ignoble function for the State art-nionu- 
(•ciory *}i such a. nation to challenge the western world tu 
sdnire the pips of a sham currant ami the filaments of a make-* 
believe giKJseljerry. On tlie tiOier hand, that noblest of veneering 
processes, the manijmtatiuii of nialarliite, of which Russia dis- 
jilaved such stujieixlous Sfiecimeiis work<nl up after sntli vile 
desi^^ns in li<51, is wholly without a representative. We were 
in hiapcs that this time we might have seen equal excellence of 
baodling and equal grandeur of scale married to purer forms. 
England is the last country which has a right to complain of 
Ruasia for want of progress durinjj; tlie |ia.st decade, but the fact 
is iignificative. Perhaps indeed the cluimrter of the Kussian 
exhibitioD may be referred to an altered policy and a better sense 
of the true inlerests of that empire, which lie tn the develninnent 
uf raw materials rather than ia tlie production of manufactures, 
vhkli, in a country destitute of coal, can only be reganled 
as exotics. The art manufacture of Spain begins and ends with 
M. Zulooga's spirited revival of the Damascening pn)ces3, which is 
to good as by iu sclitarincsi to be a reproach to a country which 

with 




with such a history and tuch resources hns not better profited hj 
its opportunities. Judicious little Portu^il rests comfortablr 
coatt;iit with the ^nodness nf its mat(!n.il prHdiictinns. The rit'al 
courts of Italv ami Komc, distinct nationalities for this turn, testify 
in the picturia! mosaics and the cameos of the Papal city, in Sfll- 
viati's successful copies of the Mumno glns»>wc>rk8 and of the 
early mosaics of Wnii-n, lus rlnlMirati! table nf glass-ninrtiuctry, 
and his rlcvor adaptation of the inosaicliits' priuL-ipIn ot f^ild- 
ing^ to the production of ff old-one losing f^Uss tnuuldinj^ and 
ornaments proof a^inst all din or scratching, in the Hora.1 
incrustations of Florence, and in Marquis Campana's artificial 
marbles, to that ingi-'uious, toilful, and wiUial jrraL'cful industry 
tii which the niudern Italian mind so well appreciates Hic 
value. The vigorous though sometimes crudely coUmred porce- 
lain which Marquis Ginori of Florence has produced in copy 
of the old Capo da Monte ware ; and Siffnor Castellani of Rome's 
felicitous revival of the jewellery and goldsmiths* work of Greek, 
Etruscan^ Roman, and Medimval days, though each in its way 
merely mimetic, stand in the first class of imitations. We claim 
for E»elB"(l ^^^^ comely but plump dauie, conscious of her own 
}^mk1 looks, whom Mr. Gibson has sent to the Italian court in 
tinted marble, and called the Wnus of Marriage. 

That Loose bundleofnaltonalitrpstn which the Duchy of Austria 
lends a name pickc^tl up upon the abandonment of die prestige of 
theCarlovingian Empire, evinces with all those chanict^riBtic dif- 
ferences which might be supposed to distin^ish tlie Teuton from 
the Southerner, a rrady-mnney yet artistic adaptability to present 
tastes curiinisly akin tii that which distinguishes its foes arrnss the 
Al|>s. The various fuims pntduced by ihi* |Nirtiiershipi>f the glass- 
blower and of the chemist may not be high art, but they are all 
ingenious, many of them decidedly pretty, and taken all round cora- 
mendably cheap, Hnbenicht's stam|MKl and coloure<l leather wall- 
hangings deserve mure than a |>assitig glance, A n-ady sale has, 
we believe, cewanled Austria's safe ambition on tlie score of art, 
while her prixligal display of carefully revised map^ and geogra- 
phical mfxicls indicates the scientific bent of her graver minds. 
That fxingloraemtion of the other German States, which puzxlet 
unlearned Englishmen by masquerading as the Zollverein, aims 
at more, and performs less. Prussia's costly porcolahi and silver 
work arc stifl", stately, and academic ; and the erowdi?d shopful of 
Dresden cliinn, with its figurantes in shepherdesses' dre5.ses and 
its nymphs in nn tiresses at all, shows how accurately yet how 
tamely this generation can go on copying a |^ase of art which 
lost all its value when it ceased to reiiresent the feelings of the 
friToloua age which gave it birth, onu which no t hin king nan 

caa 



4 



* 



TTitf ItUemaiional Exhibition. 



205 



I 



t 



I 

I 
I 



I 
I 



cut now look upon without remcnibcnng how near in date were 
ihe d(iy» of ilic Pare au Ccrfs, and uithe Petit Trianon, to those 
of the T(-ni|>I(! and tite Place de lu Revolution. The Bavarian 
Akliens appeaU to our syntpathics hy proving at how mudcTatr a 
price pictures can be copied and printed iu oil colours. CLcap 
art is ^<HxJ. but wc >vant4.'d a little also of Munich's dear art. In 
Bavaria and in KheuiKh Prussia, and to a ccrmiii dearer all ovtt 
Gennany, a scIhmiI of revired Gothic art has spruii|r up within 
the last thirty years, having its centres at Colo^s^ne and at Munich, 
which claims to compete with the similar revivals of France and 
Enf^land, and yet all that the German Gotbicists have found to 
show at the world's fair is one small ivory shrine, besides a 
carred anil |Hunlpd rptabU- and a coloured statue hid away in a 
distant ^llery. In run)|M-nsatioi), the shoj>kre}K?rs of r'rankfort 
atkd of Hamburgh have apiiealed to John Bull's purse with a 
Uviflb display of that manufacture which consists in twistinf; 
stag's hurnsi into furniture, combining tlie ininiinuin of beauty 
with die Duutinmm of risk to the flesh of im|)atient and the 
raiment of careful filters. We are sorry to see the monosyllable 
* sold ' so often repeated ou these articles, 

Belgium of course revels in lacoa, otherwise its ait manu- 
factures belie expcctnti<m. 'lliere are some coarsely finished 
chimney-pieces and inferior Tcoiers tapestry; and besides them, 
yrt Itod little which calls for notice, except the tall Gothic pulpit 
of wood by Messrs. Goyers of Louvaia, which occupies the same 
po&ition iu the west dome as the gold pyramid in the eastern. 
Its technical finish is praiseworthy, but the whole design is 
sptfitless, and the carved panels cannot l>e acquitted of the 
•ensoous sentimeutalism which haunts tlie religioU!> art of the 
modern Koman Catholic Church, Ixrth in its Italian and its 
Gothic shape. Ak restA, Belgium boasts of a huge candle- 
trophy ; and so does Holland, which also displays itt wooden 
G<»thic pulpit, by Cuypers of Ruremond, less elaljorate, with 
tirutty though timid decoration. Sweden ami Norway stuml off 
frcm the art contest, though the group of Wrestlers in the former 
cpuatry has a kind of rude energy, and so practically does 
Switzerland, which has never found the way to improve the 
wood-rarvinj; and land sea pc-jwinting industries of Lucerne and 
Inberlachen into schools of ait Denmark is more promising. 
The royal porctitain manufactory of Co|>cuhagen is little more 
thjui a reflex of Sevres, very cre<)itablo indeed for so small a 
nation, hut no way indicating original power. In the smaller 
contributions, however, of private manufactories, we ohserre a 
trpdency to the reproduction of characteristic forms of ancient 
Scaodinaviaa art appropriate to a kingdom whose sovereign, 
whatever else he may be, is a distinguished arclucotogist^ and 




significative we trust of the ri»e of a national school. Wh( 
we state tliat aj^ainst the pillars in the Dani&h portion of the nave 
■tand fitalucs b_v Tliorwal<l9cii, and pmmim-nt amiHij; ihein tlie 
majestic Jasnn, we luiV4_* said thai in sculpturv Denmark is fore- 
most of tlx! nations, althou;^li the world at larg'e verv justly claims 
some share in the man who worked at Kome, and whose jcrenius 
was first fostcrod hy one who, bom in a foreign laud, made himself 
» name in Knplish literature. Greece shows its douhle nation- 
lUity. In its rich embroideries, and in A^athan^los's marvellous] 
resuscitation nf the old thoug;h still Itvin? schfMil of minute wood- ' 
carving cr^'stallised in Mount Atho% we see the genuine ' mmlern 
Greek* Christianised and Slavonised. In the hosts of C^nis, 
of Athens, and of other mytholng-iral ami typical wnrthies, we 
remf^isn the artifirinl llclh-m? nf the At)umian st:hiM)ls. The 
'Ionian* display lH*lc»ni;s i-xrlusively to the first claxs. Some 
South Ampticim republics are at Urouipton, tliat is all. Bmzilf 
snug and pn»perou8 like its mother Portu)|n>l. sends a tempting' 
diBplay of nntuml w(>nldi anil a little upholstery art, not wortliy 
of notice in itaelf, but indicating a people which we trust may j 
ere long become rich enoujjh for busy leisure. The United^ 
States, which in 18M astonished us by its nugficcts of gold, 
commemorntcs 1862 by a frame full of the innumerable notes of 
pinny banks fancifully engravc<l with various emblems. Power, 
whose Greek Slave was one «f the delights of the former display, , 
■gain a^lventures a female 6gure, but in 1862 he only gives us a I 
Strapping stiff ' California.' I lowever, that penchant for s<-u]pture 
which has so curiously manifested itself in the American race is 
represented by Win H(«mer's Zenobia^ shown in the Italian court, , 
antl by Story's (x>ntriinitions to the Roman display in his Cieopati 
and in his Libyan Sibyl — the latt.er, weshould appndirnd (though I 
we have never seen it hinted), a work conceived with the poli- 
tical aim of tTpifying- the rf'generation of the African race. 

Wi- have thus tnivflli.*d nnind the world, and at last we find' 
ourselves in face of the twn great rival eshihiting realms, th*» 
haoghly, exulting, self-eontiiiiiMl h" ranee, and the vcntureanne pro- 
gressive British empire with its growth of half a hundred colunics. 
The French display is eminently typical of the nation which 
makes it, alike in iu bt^t points of character and in thos«! wenk- 
nessns which have ever sUna] in the way of France's perfert 
success. Compact, symmetrical, arrani;(Nl to startle and to 
please, a museum rather than an exhibition, the French com- 
mrtment wins the first spnntanoous ■ufTrag'^s of every visitor. 
riie long iron screen — rich with hangings, and backed by the ^^ 
fomiture of Founlinois and Grohe, the two strangest men in '^| 
that industry, which is peculiarly strong in France — seriously ^^ 
w it obstructs the general effect, yet forms a stately propylasum to 

the 



I 



T/ie IfUernationai Exhibit iotL 



SOT 



the tfvftsures within. Tlie spare Is tiU barrlcnded, but Ui« 
chambert which the barricade forms on the nave side assume the 
guise of luxurious apartments. Inside, the area is not as in 
other coiintru's distributed into courts, but streets of stalls, all of 
tlirm artifttimllr nud unifonntv desig-iied, lea<l to n centre com- 
pttsn] oi tlie ricli fIectrti-}^iU ami i']ef:tn»-platt?il plateau wbich 
ChiistoHe has executed lor tlie city of Paris. J'he trensun's 
around arc innumentble. Tlic jewels with their settinffs arc of 
cuuntlf'-'u price, while the ;«irure« of artificial stone» would even 
ilcwivu the warv" round tlie necks of tlic ttenn-mtnule. Tin? state 
manufactory of Sevres yields jwirrclaiu which mipbt almost 
fttonc in bulk for inferiority of execution compared witb Euplaud 
or luily. The 1<n»us of Beauvais and of the Gobelins bavr not 
been idle, and the full-sixed copy from the latter place of Titian's 
A<i!iuinption requires to be handled before the slran|i^er can 
believe that he does not gaze on the veritable masterpiece of 
Venetian colour. In bronzes, Paris was always pre-eminent, and 
Barbnlieune in rivalry with Paillanl stands foremost in them ; 
while be is great in every other school of metal-work, mcdia'val, 
renaissance. Oriental, cast, chased, or relieveil with enamel. In 
bis hamU the revival even of Limoges art has been attempted 
with very suflicicnt success. In France paper-hanging have 
sometimes assume«l the ambitious character of huge pictures, 
generally landscajjes, designed by artists of name, printed off 
on single slieets. When our won<)er at tlie proceKs has subsided, 
we are left fare to f;irr with wa^hy piintings, Hcttt-T is it to 
havt- real pajK-r, and tlieu if you [dease to hang the utoxa with 
prints or photographs. Bookbinding is very gay, as fits the 
eflitions ilc luxe which are prodigally displayed, Kcclesiastical 
metal-work of mcdtieval design is represenleil by several pxhi- 
Iiilors, whose productions arc all of tlipm costly and elatM>r»tc in 
llietr design, bi'Tsides being urtistic when due to M. Viollet Lc 
Due, and highly enamelled ait l-'renchmen can enamel ; although, 
as a nile, tlelicicnt in fineness of chiselling, and overloHdcd with 
gilding. The huge liamiiiered figures in copper and in zinc for 
the n'oches of the Saiute Chapelle and of Notre Dame are bold, 
and telling works, ina<le to be viewed at n distance, while 
Christnilc's lifosized female nudity, produced in dully shinini 
elcrtroplate. stands lis a beacon to avoid. The newly di8<'overed'' 
'onyx' marble from Algeria, a species of alaliaster of a light 
guhlen tint, semitmnsparent and easy to be worked, has its 
capacitie^s displaved in various forms, partly architectural and 
partly sculptured, notably as the dress of images, with hands, 
and arms, and feet of bronze— 

* Lampadtui ignifvrms manibus rctincutaa dostriii.' 



208 The International Exhibition. 

If the supply prove equnl to the demand, this substance is a 
gain to art, from the richness oi its tone, and the ease with which 
it may be worked. 

After we have indulged to the futl otir just admiration at the 
very remarkable display which France has made, the mii^iving 
question rises to our mind, Is all this complcieness spontaneous, 
is there no sign of the mot tTordrc alxnit it? Is it an art more- 
meiil which will ^row unnided, sprrnd by its own consciouitness 
of strength, and purify itself by its own simpHrity? or will it 
ttami still and expect autliority to sustain it at its actual 
excellence? May it not be that the French in their present 
pursuit of serious art act somewhat like tlieir wives in their 
cultivation of the art of drpM? Frenchwomen boast of being 
the \ws\ ilresscd women In the world, but tlieir ejieellencc mnsiits 
in tlie way in wliich they put on the rlothes which are dictaletl 
to them by the tyrant modistg*. Sometimes taste in dress takes 
a healthy hue, and then ' well-dressed ' persons appear in 
becoming iihitlics. But fashion changes, the gTuceful lull skirt 
is inflated and sliflened by the hiwjK and the hoop has the 
additional abouiinatiuu of a short waist superadded, till the ladies 
walk about lo«>king more like bells than belles, the most neatly 
rnouldcd head and the scraggiest skull arc equally weighted vritK 
the menacing wreath, or topped by one of those peftked boanats 
which have supplanted the modest bead-gear of five or six yean 
ago, anil the ' best dressefl woman in the world ' is the one who 
lias most slavishly conformnl to these successive di^figurcmeiits. 
We fear something of the same kind is going on with France 
in its cultivation of graver pursuits. That country, like all other 
highly civiliiced and intellectual lands, has its knot of independent 
thinkers atal s(-lf-reliant act(»rs, but for the most part the artist 
sails with the wind, and exerts his p>wcrs rather to invest the 
fashion with accessories of grace and cosllinegs, than to combat 
and counteract its vi«ous tendencies. The people who invente<l 
the saying, ' Kidicule tiie,' and tvho make it the guide of their 
public life, are a shrewd race, but by tlie same token they are 
timid of novelty, and rather prefer to tread the safe |>ath of 
polished conventionalism tlian to aim at and perhaps to miss a 
piquant originality, or if they do brcuk out they strive ti> choke 
the ridicule bv the audueitv of their aljeiTations. 

If we were callnl upon to name some one object in the French 
court which should be, we do not say the best thing there, but 
one which was typical of its entire spirit, we should, even after 
visiting the huge and sumptuous iron fountain in tlie Horticul- 
tural Garden, select that very work of art ordered by high autbcv 
rities, designed by the lacky recipients of iouuinerable guvera- 

xnental 



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Tht luternijtivual ExhUiUwn. 



309 



tncntJil prizes, nntl executed by the court tradesman, which 
I'ranic liei-self has promoted to tlif cciitnd place of houaur, the 
plateau fur the Hotel de VilU'. fanite tii> (Kmht it piMssesscs, but 
It is the grace of the academy ; it is dignified, Ijut its dignity 
warilji sclt'-furf^etfuhieiis ; its material is rich, but the ticlmess is 
mostly on ihe surfaire ; its technical eiecution is pei-fet:t. but in 
the cxeeutioii spirit has evaporated. Considered as an alle^rv^ 
it is one of ten thousitnd ; it has about it no moral si^niricanee, 
hardly even mythology, but only some trite effigies of obvious 
material advantages. As the expression of a fact it is merely 
the Jttatcinent of intense Bell'-&atisfactionma(le in the family circle 
of one's own admirers. The municipality of I^aris, /. c. oflicial. 
Paris itself, can fiiul no mon> graceful compliment with wliirh' 
lu greet iU guesU*, loreign or domestic, at its own Imiiquets. tlwn 
a triumphal representation of that very Paris of wliirh it is itself " 
the exponent, attend^t by all tliose elements of material prospirrity, 
which a highbred host avoids vaunting to his company. WIlcu 
il i« added that this official Paris is not the choice of Paris 
jl»elf, but tlie emanation «if the hijrher centralization, that tliis 
ccntrali/jitlon lives in and lives by Paris, wliMe denviiig to Paris 
tluise frt-r <:or|K>rate rijjhts which are the Hie of gniit citicrs, and 
when wc rc(lt*ct tliat dns glorified Paris, glorificnl not for itji own 
saice but for the sake of the j>owcr which sways it, is by that rery 
power sent to crown the French imperial display in an Inier- 
nationnl Kxhibition, we shall not have far tn seek when- Oic 
i-aiiker must be liHiked for, if in (Mjniing years Frrncli art should 
ni*t fulfil its glilU^ring promise. Its sun may still be in tJie eastern 
heavens, but it may he at its xenitli, lending to the nnpurplcd 
but chilly sundown of a Western Lower Kmpire. 

Xo such especial risk attends the industrial art of England. 
It may thrive or it may waste away, but it will never Ik? stifled 
under the dead weight of an artifirinl mngntficence. Of etiurse 
the Knglisb ilisplnv is larger nod more miseellaneous than that 
of France, for it had not to pass tltrough the alembic of a pi'eli- 
JDtnaTk- investigation, and thus our worst tlnngs find uotliing 
quite so bad to be set against them there, yet we are thankful 
to say wr have nothing to n'proarli ourselves with which is so 
inapprojiriale as tlte horn furniture "f Germany. Our guud and 
our Ijad things etmullv bear mark!> of free eompetiliuit. When 
We gjvze upon the French display wv seem to be assisting at 
the review of a picked regiment of well-drilletl guardsmen. Wc 
I go int<) England, and we arc at Ihighton wben the volunteers 
tnm out, or on Kpsoin I)4)wns u[kui the Derby day. Tliere are 
favourites heavily liaekeil, and outsiders of whom nobody is 
thinking ; but it may bu that an outsider will win. Tliere is 



Vol. 112.-^^0. 'i2S. 



rul^TVV^ 



rulgarity enough in the KngUah department to send us home 
sorrowing, and there is prepress enough to cheer us in our most 
desponding moinentii. The artist has elenrl^' hnd to do nith tho 
produciT diuinf]; the last elu\rii yrars. His help has mit alwa^'s 
Ihwu ac know led ped as it deservwl — far, indeei], Kjo little so. 
His inituencv has often been ibwarted, and his sug^c^tioDs 
altered, but still be has been employed as he never used to be. 
Ol'lcn, moreover, wc see indications of the cmplovmcnt of nrehi- 
tccts to furnish thi* designs. This fact indicates n larf^o and 
hcsllliy rcrulutiiiii, if we sliouhl ni>t rather say rcstonitiou, til 
Art studies which is at work more or leas in all countries of 
lCuro[K>. A designer who was merely a designer had seldom 
enough cither of general or terhnical education, or fif construc- 
tive exjK'rienee, to inaki! him ii vrhnllv safe guide to the mnna- 
iaeturpr. An artist of inor»? versiitile and extensive training 
was needed, and was found in the arehitect. Architecture is 
still nluiut what it was, except in its polyrhromatie tendencies; 
but the architect must hcncefurward be a man capable of 
dealing with the form, the colour, and the texture of many 
materials nnd nut alone with slonc and brick. Tor this de\'e- 
lopment much crtrdit is duo to the schofds of design which 
are at work in various places, but muL-h also to the impulsioti 
gi^'en by fK.Tsuns who have taught without a pencil in their 
hands, and whose lessiMis may l>c summml up in the one axiom 
to seek utility of form and reality of material first, and then to 
ornament in accordance with that t'omi and that material. In the 
present Exhibition the furniture, whether <if the costly or the cheap 
description, [Mi|)cr-hangings and cnr|>ets, testify respectively lo this 
Upward tendency. Glass-painting alom* js standing still, so far 
u we can judge by the Exhibition. In furniture, spirited 
carvings, natural forms, and llowing tines are substituted for the 
tortured outlines of old upholstering chefs-d'trurrc ; variet}' of 
wo<hU, chosen for thetr colour and their grain, ami often artisti' 
cally contracted In delicately inlaid pnttenis, arc coming into 
vogue in place of tawdry splatchea of gilding or tlie dull 
uniformity of shiny mahogany. Where cheapness is retiuired, 
our tradesmen are beginning to open their eyes to the beauty 
of simple varnished deal, showing its natural colour. Impos- 
sible networks of rejXNited temples or ruins are no 1ong«nr 
*steemod the most appropriate dccomlion for (rovcring our 
walls, while those poper>pr inters who work by machinery vie 
in tlie purity of their patterns with their dearer brethren who 
still employ the block process. It is no longer esteemed the tie 
jjjiis uitra of taste to spread our floors ^nth gigantic bunches 
of lilacs, roses, niid peonies, shaded up in high reUeX Here 

and 



A 



Tlie Tntertiatimai Erhibittm. 211 

and there we stil! »eo nppallin^ specimens, such as a certain 
carpet symbolical of the French treaty ; but as a wholf the 
looms are being daily more and more set to ]}attcms combining 
gc<Jinemn»l forms with Mcll-contraslctl colours. In the porccluLn 
tif almost every European school — Faience, majolica, Palissy, 
and neo-classical, not to talk of the rcviral of imligeiMius 
types — England, represented by its various Staffordshire and 
Worcestershire 'firms, stands supreme; and foremost among: the 
exhibitors are Messrs. Minton, though well followed up by the 
Copelands, tlie Wwlgcwootls, nml tlie Dukes. As a cimlrast Jw- 
tween life and death we have unlv to turn from these displays to 
the cold Dresden exhibition. In tiles for mural derorntiun as 
contrast with porcelain, Messrs. Maw have made valuable pro- 
ffTcss, and their large mosaic, designed by Mr. Digby Wyatt, , 
MI bold ceramic tesscrte, is a production not to be orcrlookcd. 
The ornamental glass-works of England arc not in pn>portion of 
so remnrkablc a quiilitv as the porcelain ; but still they show con- 
siderable aptitude in the imitations of various foreign schools; 
and one taxza of glass, delicately cugraved nml shown by a St. 
James's Street firm, has not unmeritnlly won considerable 
praise. The performances in brass-work and in wrcjoghl or 
cast iron are of a remarkable size and vciy higb merit. The 
'praise of Skidmorc's screen from Coventry is in every visitor's 
month. Messrs. Hardnian's delicate wrought-iron grill of late 
Gothic potteru, from Birmingham, must not be overlooked ; \vhilc 
another prominent work, Barnard's Norwich Gates, partly of 
cast and partly of wrought iron, composed of spirited imitations 
«f natural foliage artistically grouped, dcsencs especial commen- 
dation. The cast and Ijronzcd gates from Colebrook Dale are as 
ronspicuously had. Mediieval art in a surprising variety of forms 
is not on1v displayed by the artists we have named and by other 
workers in brass, such as IVtr. Hart, but also in a court aiTailged 
by a society with the long name of Ecclcsto logical, out of 
which we should name some very meritorious embroidery and 
woollen-work of rich colours well contrasted, by Messrs. Jones 
and Willis of Birmingham, under Mr. Street's inspirations. and a 
specimen of the pavement of Lichfield Cathedral, by Messrs. 
Clayton and Bell, reviving the old art of incising atones, for 
designs to be execntctl in various coloured cements — a process 
as applicable to walls as to floors. Tbc goldsmiths sml the 
jewellers astonish whh the monetary value of their cases. The 
price of these gems is not, of course, a question of art, and the 
settings are frequently nothing more than ingenious <levice8 to 
show off the stones. But tliere is a prodigal display of glyptic 
work in the precious metals and their imitations. The nearly 

p 2 lvj\^wV^eu 




■ 



forgotten iproc'fss of rcpouss^ i* nuw in vigorous operation ; ami 
tlKmgli ibi prmlucta may still hti somewhat stiff, yet perfection 
will vumti by pmertice. 'Hie French invention of nxydizing 
silver bii£ hvea accliinatlsoil here since 1851 ; aiul in the pro- 
fusion of forms which racing and other ' cups,' memorial 
shieUts, and so on, assume, ideas arc here iind there struck out 
wliich lire ca|mbk' of much further expansion. As a whole this 
display, when its abmidauce ts considered, may be esteemed a ^^ 
hopeful indication of the homage which wealtli now pftys to art. ^M 
The desjgneis' nnmes are in v;iriou» instances given, and some of 
the foremost are foreigners. Honour where honour is due ! Still 
we should urge or our countrymen to seek this path of excel- 
lence. There is still room for developmeiit. Some maniifac* 
tiivers, for example, seek their effects by the contrast of oxyclised 
and bright silver, others by parcel gilding, none have sufficiently 
tried the further contrast of all the three effects. Wo do not 
pretend to select any favourite work out of so prolific a com- 
petition. Hut we must say that if our choice were limited to 
iMic priMbiction we .should not take that lopa7 cup, by a fnreigTi 
hand, set with inferior imitations of or nnni'- renter enamelling, 
whose prominent position in tiie nave has gainetl it so much 
iittention ; while wc sympathise with Abdul Aziz's economical re- 
jection of his prcdcccssor'sjcwellcd looking-glass and stereoscope. 
Still less should we Ije attracted by the coarse ivory statuette 
i»f a slave girl in the same * trophv,' which is, we believe, an 
almost 5olit.-ir\' in.st'incc in the I'.nglish department (though not 
by an ICngltslimaii) of the artistic manipulatmn i)f n material 
once dear to canxrs. In ta|X!Sirv England does not compete, 
and in bronzes hanlly at all, but Derbyshire very fairly imitates 
that pietm dura uf Florence, while in a pnvement by NIr. Slater 
for Chlchestrr Catliedral we are glad to note the revival of 
marble mosaics of a con&tnictural cliaracter. 

There is «me artistic exhibition in which Britain stiinds virtually 
alone, that of architectural drawings of modem buildings. In 
the invitations issued early In the undertaking these were coldly 
specified among tlie objects which were aihnissible. Foreign 
countries may have bwu n!j»elled by the .singular absemx! iif zpnJ 
which the CV>mmisaioner8 displayed in their re4piest for a class 
of contributions of which it is fair to suppose they hardl\ knew 
the value. Certaiidy very few have arrived from foreign lands. 
The French catalogue has, indeed, some names of architectural 
cininetice, but these lU'e affixed to restorations of ancient build- 
ings. A few original designs Imve come from Prussia anil Aus- 
tria, and one or two from Mollaml ; the rest of Kumiic is a 
blank. This is greatly to be regretted, for an hntiToaiional 

representation 



TVwf International Krhilntion. 



213 




representation of the collective architectural ninetcentli century 
would liave been a lesson of sing-ul^ir int]>ortance, not merely to 
Uie architect, but to the student of historical civilisation and the 
analyst of national characteristics. However, the architects of 
Ko^laud, not dauittMl by the scant encour;i^euient which tlicv 
jeceived from oHicial authorities, rombinecl to agitate and to 
represent until they succcedetl in wrinirini; from the Commis- 
Honers both a range of galleries lor architectural dcsif^Tis^ and an 
adjacent court for |iortions of buildings of exhibitable size and 
possessing distinctive merit. The treatment which, except for the 
vi>luntary labour5 of these gentlemen, the queen-art would have 
ceivcd, would have been a fit corollary to tlie appreciation of 
rrhitecturc shown in the construction of the building itw?lf. 
s it is, we may look with solid satisfaction upon the numerous 
aimy uf drawings ranged in the two main galleries like rival 
armies — the f jotldc on one side, the classical and the renaissance 
on the other, but peacefully commingled in the external galleries 
which are jwrtiallj dcroicd to the Scotchmen. The variety ol 
treatment witli which the various styles are handled, the con- 
srientiuus study (tf details, the nXtention shown to the grouping, 
the mger, sometimes exuberant, oftener healthy, search nfler 
firi^inality, indicate an epoch of vast material and intellectual 
kCtirity in tlie pursuit of architecture. In tlils large collection, 
representing an outlay which we should fear to calculate, then> 
is a moderate percentage ttf unbuilt, and liardly any of imaginary 
structures, while the quality i>f the warlis is imjiroved bv their 
being displayed in juxtaposition. Knglatid may in pirtlcular 

Saint witli honesl pride to the cathedral-like church which 
Ir. Scott is building at Hamburg, won in an international com- 
jictttion, and to that other cathedral for Lille where Mr. Clutton 
and Mr. Rurges came off vicU>riou8 over Kurope, followed by 
Mr. Street, onlv to he deframlril of their wiirk. All the exhi- 
bitors but two or three are living, anil thi>se who are dead, liki* 
Sir Charles Barry, have ileceascd since 1851. Adjacent to the 
architecture, though under diHerent management, a gallery has 
been devoted to art-designs by persons who have been living 
during the century. We have incidentally mentioned Scotch 
architecture. With this exception, neither Seotland nor Ireland 
takes up any distinctive position in the industrial arts. Very 
little art, as mis;lit be sup]>o8Cfl, comes from the colonies. But 
they do contribute materLils, lx)th vegetable and mineral, which 
may be ihv Jhmes, if tlic English race does not degenerate, with 
them and at liome, of future art-esploits of refreshing originality. 
Not to mentiun the marbles of Now South Wales and the mala- 
chite 



214 7%p Int^nwfiotuU Exhihitimi. 

clu'te of South Austrntin^ tlie prodignl array of woods of every 
ffrain, t'vcrv hue, iind every hardness, which come from Austmlia, 
^utli Afn'ra, and New /raUnd, from thi? We-st !ni lies and from 
Ceylon, and in n lo« liejsrreo from North America, Are an alarum 
to the carver nnd the cabinet-maker to be up and stirrlo^ with 
their touU, and to the architect and tbo draughtsman to ahaq>cn 
their pencils. Wc arc plad tn sec that these colonics have to a 
certain extent contributed to the architectural anp<al by the 
photographs which several of thRm hnvr sent of their principal 
cities, such as Sydney, Melbourne, (Jeelong^, Auckland, Montreal, 
Jl.itifaK. &C-. We are fi^atcful for this frlimpse into their inner 
life, aiiri we shall not discuss the style of the public or private 
buildinirs. When some c*jlony shall have ratsctl a ^"at imii- 
genous arcliitect, he neeil not \ye oppressed bv the iinnppronch- 
able superiority of the betjuests which an earlier age? may have 
led for niB contemplation. 

We have referml to M. Cliriatofle's plateau as typiral of 
French art; that of England may be considered to have attained 
its most charactcrialic expression in Minton's majolica fountain, 
tlesi^efl by the late Mr. Thomas, anil in Skidniore's Hereford 
srreen, carried out umler Mr. Scott's directions. Both these works 
are emphatically monumental in their aim, and neither of tliem tltc 
fruit of official enU^rprise. Kach is the largest work which lias 
yet been produced from the manufactory which the late Mr. 
Minton in the one case, and Mr, Sktdmore in the other, deve- 
loped or set up, with the express Intention of allvin^ arts to 
industry. Karh in its largeness tmnsirends any previous exploit 
in the &ame materials producetl elstrwhere. The fountain shows 
nu how large and architectural a scalo tlic fulle-st coloration may 
be employed; the screen exemplifies the manifold capacities of 
mclal-work from hainmere<l iron to cnamciling. Neither of 
them is periect, but the im|)erfecttons which may attach to each 
— innKTfectirms of detail as thev are — are signs of n genuine art 
which aims at hnnd n-sults. U may be; objected to the fountain 
that the employment of stone for certain }Mjrtions of it tends to 
impugn its claim to bs a porcelain fountain, while its coloration 
is not above criticism. Again: certain parts of the scrceo may 
lie considercil as rather stona turned into metnl than legitimate 
metallic construction, and others may lie held too slight for 
BO large a monument. We are not careful either to establish 
or n-fute these criticisms. IJe lliey true or lje thev false, enough 
remains in cither case to eattblish the work as a remarkable 
px.imple of the energy <>f Knglishmcn successfully workitig in 
the mi<Ut of our people to t:n«ite tlinl spirit of art from tlie head 

which, 





7?b hUernatmnai Kxhibition. 



315 



which, when it has onco taken root, is so macU more enter- 
prising', though nut alwayi so refined in details, as tho mere 
uutintiivc ut of the heart. 

It must have been a hjgiral pn>eips!i which led to the first n>n- 

cvjitiun uf the ruuntaiii ; but em Uiat process was c-om)iUHi>, lis 

^lealiaaiion invoked all the higher qualities of combination and 

design, the thouglitf'ut halnncins; of foim and colour, and the love 

of size, which is, in its due siibonlination, one element of suc- 

ccwful art. Even the selection tA the g^roap witli which it is 

crowned is a hcalthv syniptom. There is nothing pcruliarly 

novel in St George and the Ura^ron, but that the good ohi 

representative story --in its nake<l farts tvpic-al of rollgiou, in its 

I earlier loca] application brcathincr of chivalry, ami in its later 

mse the symbol of the Ivnglish Tvspublica in its brightest (jhjrics 

— shotdd be the one selected thJuj; to cap the sight which was 

meant to win the applause of the myriads — -nnives more tlinn one 

Tisitur in ten thousand has any idea of. Imperial and bureau- 

Icratic P'rance, setting up its official art-mtmument in the midst 

of the Hotel de Ville of Paris, has nothing bfMier to exhibit 

^ihan the cold beauty of a mcKlern idcalise<l goddess of an oh! 

Christian and historica] city. England, rcpri/scntcd bv the eittrr- 

prise of a private potter, ci-owns the achievement by exalting on 

igh the red-cross Knight, St. George for England, i 

As cluiriicleriatic of Kuglish invention an<I si-lf- reliance, tlic 

Armstrong irophv must not I>e pas*o<l over in silence. We here 

displav this important engine to foe and friend, in all its sorts 

and sizes, its parts and stages of manufacture ; challenging them 

I to imitate — to surpass, if Uiey can — a weapon which (though it 

1ms iK>t yet reached p>rfi-ction, and indeed must always be liable, 

like other weai>ons, to defects of construction) jntiraises to give to 

those who shall make it best an tmuieiise supeiinritv in war. 

The incidents of the I lercford screen are equally ciiarnctcristic, 
irrespective of its art. This work — cxrcutctl in a prnvinrial 
cjtv, by a man who has so cnmplctelv made his fame in a few 
years Umt, although he sent some things to the Exhibition of 
1851, they were overlooked by every jurj — illnstmtes by its 
raiton d'Hrtt another of the features of the national chamcter 
which cannot fail to have its influence in moulding tlie artistic 
movement. The work is not orderctl by any private person. 
This would in manv Continental States be almost tantamount to 
its having been ordered by some Governmental body. Not so 
in England. The patron in this ciise is nne of those cnrporalions 
rxisting in and for the Church of England, spared at the Rcfor- 
tnatiun, afterwards simk into sloth and selfishness, consequently 
detpotlcU and crippled in the days of Reform, when men had 

faith 



316 The Jntirmtional Ejrhihition, 

faith in Cummis&ions, now rising a^in to n consciousness of 
and a performance of their own work, anil able to dispose □<>! 
only of their «nn remaining funds bnt of the free Rifts of con- 
fiding lavmcn — a cathedral chapter. This costly work of inm 
and brass and rich enamel, with it* lofty arches, its delicate mn- 
vohitiiins, its electrotype statues, and its crowning cross, is 
desliiieil, when the ilays of its exhibition arc over, to span the 
choir of one of our old catliedrals, restored, like so ninny others, 
wiUi the gc»od»vi]l and the co-o]>eration of its diocese, lo a solid 
magnificence more chastened than its primitive condition, 

Thus, like Mintnn's fountain, Skidmore's screen is a debt 
which the present is paving; to the past jio less than to llie 
future. Its art is modem in its extent, but in its principh^s it is 
old, and its object is to enhance a large surviving mimumcnt of 
ancient art. Such also is the intention of manv of the costly 
objects of Church silvcr-Hork hi the cases of Iiachelet,Trioul!ier, 
and Poussielf^iie Kus-inil ; but while these pnuhictionit, rlojrgMl 
with superfluous fjilding-, will in the end ticcupy some position 
where they must lie inspected like cabinet-pieces, the bolder 
Knglishman commands the fabric itself, and raises metal-work 
to the level of architecture. It will be noticed that one of our 
two types of English art woiih) Im> cnsiinlly termeii Italian, and 
the other (iothic. .\evrilheless we do not ndtnil anv real con- 
trariety Iw-twi-en the principles which influenced the two de&i^^ns. 
Hoth are natural art, tioth of tliein art which studies tlie inat^ 
rial to be used, both of them art which docs not despise colour at 
the correlative of form ; and so, whether we call them Italian or 
call them Gothic, we cannot add to or mar their merit. 

We are not in desjiair at the fact that so many of tho ««- 
trihuthtns from alt countries manifest absence of invention, along 
with great reailiness and variety in adaptation ; which critics 
have crjiisidered to be the sum of the lesson to be learned 
from the whole cxliibition uf appHeil art. It is by working 
at first from tlie models Iwfore them tliat the rt-^cnemtuni of 
art c^tt at Ia!>l attain that knowledge of tlie principles of art 
which will justify them in liiunchin^ out in a bolder course at 
some later dav. No doubt the ' Fine-Arts-on-loan Exhibition' 
will breed innumerable mimics, but their mimicries will be the 
copy-books in which they are Icamintf to write. England, how- 
ever, sfvniB by comiiariwni Wttcr pre[«»red (o take an independent 
line th»n the more p4!ifectionated I'nincc, and we will tell die rea- 
son wliv. In Ku^land Uu- battle of styles has In-en fought in a pro- 
gressive and not a retrospective spirit. The men whose principle lias 
been to remrmlw-r tliat we are ICnglishmen, not (JlroeKs, Romans 
or Italians ; Christians not pagans : governed by Sovereign, Lords, 



I 



The Fnterjuitional Exhibition, 



217 



nnd Commong, not hy Er<rlcsi.i or Spniitr, Dukc nr Ptnlcsta, — while 
workiti); out ;il] tlir mntiv forms of art wlii<-li tliiMr c-i)iivt<iiciii5 
rtrinni-l tlu-iti lo tiiiiullt*, ami whicli tin- w<irlil calls fiotliJc, — tlu 
not tuinJIi- tlii-ni licmuse they are Gothic ami nierJi.i>val, but 
because they are national and natural to the a^e niul tlie land wq 
live in, and may be su muulde<l as to become still more natoral 
nnd national to future agt^ Tlie ronseque-nee is, that tlicy liave 
mtule tlieir inJluciice frit even iinion|r thi>ir jniirejised opjHinrnts, 
anil have eroated iin eelectic wIkhjI, whieh, while it is itui witli 
them, cannot he saiil to be against ihem. The foreign GutliieisI, 
in Fmuce at all events, *fail de i'archeoioffic,' or else modernizes 
ukI Mario latrises. The German art movement, we b<*li('v<", hag 
more Kimililudr in innny of its moral nsp-cts to ours than that of 
Fllince, but it liasfaileil tn plate itself in rei>rrscnt!ilJoiial tlie l^hi- 
bidoiL The I^u^lish movement is aUo inliinsitallv and unaifeet- 
c<llr more rolipous, and Its rcli?ii>n does not eouline itself to the 
Kstabiis}ie<l Church, for there is no dissenting IxHly which would 
now think of building its ckapcl in any style but tliat uf old 
Enslatid. In France the artists and the archiiects are elassicnl, 
or they are Gothic, as artists or arehiteets merely. Here they do 
not allow themselves to forget that thev are also members of tlie 
community; they retain their own political and religious pre- 
dilections, and tliev are himest enough to express them, ami 
to take part in public matters on one side or the other, without 
respect to llu-ir prolesslonnl advantage. 

Nich are umon^ lUe jH-euUnrities of national character wlueli 
arcoimt for certain phenomena in the Kxhibition. The real 
industrial art of England, appertaining as it does to a people 
which is seriously minfled,antt which has a [Tcculinr devotion for 
bump, is |>artly w>cial and partly rclijfious. It travels from house 
to church, and from church to house, and takes its colour from 
each. It is a sturdy plant, reared by many different influences, 
like the |)c<jplp in which it has taken root, — 

' Qucai ranlcent aurro, nutrit boI, odncat imber.* 

It has been formt^d hy our old institutions, and by onr recent pro- 
(H^ss ; it ha.s been moulde^l bv the Parliament and the Courts nf 
Law, Plantagenet traditions both of them, yet l>otli uf them ailaptnl 
to modem uses; by the media'val Churrh, and bv tht- Kefornia- 
lion; by the monarchy and the (iveat ("hnrtcr; by Tiulnr pride 
nnd Puritan ascendency ; by the Restoration of King; and Hishop ; 
by the Revolution, with its Tolerathm Act, and bv the silrnt 
ante-n-rolution of the eighteenth century; hv thr Union with 
Scotland anil with Ireland ; liy tlie [»reat Kurojicjin war, and llie 
mighty memories of Pitt and VVVllingtim ; by tlu; Reform Bill and 
Free Trade, and by the female reign which was vouchsafed wlK'n 

Royalty 



218 



37W Itdemalioiuil Exhibition, 



Royalty seemed aa it« trial. Tbese, anil a thousand otb 
memories of similar import, all combine to make the English 
character of 18t>2, so old and yet so young', which is strugKlinir 
for itt artistic rxprrssinn. That t*x]>r('ssion cutinot he written in 
the nlieii tiin|^e of dihtitnl laiuU and hygonc civilization. It 
iiatunJly seeks its iilphabet in the title-deeds of England, — 
royal, free. Christian. It does not 'make archaeology)' hut it 
inquires of the past to inform the iiiturc. It is progressive art ; 
and as true progress must ever be putting itself to school, it seeks 
to Irnrn «f rver>' stvlc which ever lovnl llie beautiful, in ord»n" to 
adopt and tiy ns^tiinilate, he^-dlt-ss of the |>iirrot rej)rouch of eclcc- 
ticisin, jmividcil only tliat eclecticism be one of fusion and of 
devclupraent, ond not merely of juxtaposition. We so strongly 
insist on this point, from our honest desire to repudiate the ctiarge 
of narrowness. We do nut conceal our sympathicij witli that school 
of art, whii'li, represented as it was in tin* last Exhibition almost 
exclusively by Pugin's court, is, in 1802, wi laiyly upheld by 
Skidmove, by the Eccle*ioIogical Suciety's court, by Hanlumn 
and Hart, in part by Minton, by the Architectural Court in the 
east transept, and by more than half the Architectural Gallery. 
But we do Hi in no bigoted spirit. Whatever beauty any other 
style possesses, that beauty we cmlmicc ; and \vc lio|>r, or dream 
as it may he, that in some later day the hidden link that jiiins it 
to the seemingly rival developments may be discovereil. .Art 
we believe is uii(% imly man has not yet mastered the secret of its 
unity. We are not blind to the faults into which those whom wo 
see working in the same groove as ourselves arc sometimes ImW. 
Wc perceive that their productions are uccasiomUty angular or 
um-nuth, that thoy sumetiiiies mistake hciiviness for dignitv, and 
spend much time and run into great exiwnses to seem cheap and 
Eimulntc simplicity. But wc know full urcll that the faults im 
the other side are quite as grave. Wc may esteem kome of them 
move grave, but all we claim is a fair start, and we rest con- 
tent tu abide the issue, Wc see tliat a similar battle is being 
fought in foreij^n lands, and we strive to profit by its tcacliuigs. 
The faults of diuse who occupy abroad a position similar lo our* 
are also patent; sometimes a worship uf luchaeulogical precedent 
which refuses to notice that the world rolls on, sometimes a 
simulated deference to religious scnsuousnr^is. There arc also wtnao 
signs visible, we fear, among them uf a phenomenon which, we 
trust, is al>sent from us, or rather one of which the reverse prevails 
in England — a widening breach between art general and art reli- 
gious, fostered by the social conditions and the tumid pretensions 
of that community which is tlie visible emIxKlinient of Cliristianlty 
over the widest portion of Western Europe, In the mean whllA 

scicace 




I 



Tfip Intematianal Exhihitim, 219 

science is c\-crv tlav jiouriag its hard-won Irc-isurcs into the lap 
of art: new processes, new minerals, new tl^es, new cisement^ of 
manual operation; tlic galMinic bath turning the artist's own clay 
into the everlasting statue ; tlie sun slaving in the glass-house to 
|Mi!nt mail's pir'turt.'s, the electric spark rumiing along tlie wires to 
tell ntati'!* int'ssii^'es ; the Vft|Mur uf water doing tUat which tui 
horses and no linnds, no winds and no tides, could ever accomplish. 
TliMe aj^encics are Providence 's instruments to work out results 
mightier tlian any Exhibition can make or mar. Vet ExKi- 
bitions Lave their value, as seats by the roudsiidc, where the 
wayfarers may rest and compare their adventures. Much varied 
lore inny (here be gatlieretl by those who will have the pntioncc 
to sit at the feet of experience and iudustrv, and many false 
impressions will he di^pellod by tlie attrition of equal minds. 
Officials may have done thrir little best to sjjoil the good ri-sult, 
hut, after every abatement has been made, great gratification to 
multitudes, tangible instruction to a smaller but numerous class, 
will be the gross result of the Exhibition of 1862, as it was of 
that in 1851. Whether there will ever be another in England, 
or whether lliere will not, these two will have left tlieir mark on 
histor\'. 'Hie names of tbc Commissioners and of the engineer 
will be forgotten, while the date of botli will l>e remeinlKTe<l as 
occurring in the reign of Queen Victoria, and as having be^n 
among the many wiiic conceptions for the public gotxl of that 
Prince who luid so eminently the capficity of swaying events by 
his consciousness of quiet power. 



I 



Art. VII. — 1, liittcaii: the Past, Premtlj and Future of Us 
hlaml-KinijSom ; an Ilistorical Acrount of the Sandicictt Ulanda. 
By Maitley Hopkins, Hawaiian Cunsul-Genera) ; with a I*n> 
[ace by the Uitiliop of Oxford. London, I8G2. 

3. Hintortf of the liawaiiaii or SandicUJi Islands, By James 
Jackson Jnrvis. Boston, 1847. 

3. The Ulaiulirurhl of the Pacifc. By the Hev. R T. Checver. 
Olasgow. 

4. Lifp in tfip Sandmch Islands. By the Rev. H. T. Chcevw*. 
London, 1851. 

EIGHT ycnrs ngo wc called tlie attention of our reatlen to 
the missions of Polynesia, and endeavoured then to set 
before tliem a living picture butli of tlie jiast and present state of 
those strangely njetures^jue islands which gem the bosom of the 
great Pacific Ocean. We might perltajK under ordinary cir- 
cumstances have waited longer before we reverted to the subject 

A decade 



4 



220 



The Hawaiian Islands. 



A ilRCiuht IB but a linef periml in tlie histiiry of missionary 
exertion, or in ttie progn^ss nf thn Cliuriih an ywhert*. Hut the last 
ten ytaxt have in more than one respect brouf^ht forth for those 
distant pvjups of islfuids some such peculiar events that we 
gl»(Lly devote a fetv of our own pngca aixl cnll a portion of "ur 
reaih'ra' attention to their narratidn. 'V\\p. wide extent over which 
that jM^ruIiar rare which lias bern <!Hllr4l the MaIayi>-Po!vni'sian 
is spread, fonns nnc siiif^ular fact coiieeniini; them. Instead of 
their insular position, scattercfl as those islands arc through a 
vast expanse of waters, partinjj ailjncent peoples into distinctly- 
niarkeii trjlics, a most unusual Kimtlaritv mav be traced tlinuigh 
die whole mass. * nisjoiiK^I and wid^ily sejwiratL-d,' savs 
I'l'ichiird, * these insular tracts aif found to contain races of 
inhabitants motv nearly connected with each other, and at the 
Kline time much more widely scattered, than any of the families 
of men who orcnpr l]i<3 continuous lands of Asia nnd Afrim,'* 
C?l«ise (ibserA'atioii has apparcTitlv established the fact that three 
si'imralc* trihes of the great Iminan family inhabit this wiib- dis- 
trict of the globe : * tlie <hu'k-coloiired, lank-hnircd pro(;Mathous- 
hcaded Australians,* * the crisi>-haii-ed Pelagian nej^roes,' and the 
' Malayo- Polynesians,' who form the nobk-r stuck in all these 
islands. 

The ^uidwieli Islands, as in honour <if his patron they were 
nnuiett by Cajifain Cuuk ; the Hanaiiaii Islands, as they are now 
rommonlv called; the Hawaii Nei — United Hawaii — as since 
the reign of tlie great island-conqueror Kamehameba I. they are 
termed by their own people — exhibit one of tlic fairest forms of 
this mcp. and it is to them especially that wu call the render's atten- 
tion. The work of Mr. Mauley Hopkins, tlie title of which we 
have placed at the hea<l of litis article, is a creditable comiieiidium 
of ulf tliat lias been written of late years upon the subject, and, 
in spite of some faults of style, does great credit to the spirit, dili- 
gence, and ability of tlic Hawaiian Consul-Ocneral in London. 
It is dedicated by pcrmissimi lo Lord Russell, and u pivface has 
been contributed to it by the Bishop of OsJbrd, who has explained 
his special interest in the volume from his connexion with the 
new mission which seeks to reprwluce a genuine branch of our 
Church in the thief of the Hawaiian Islands under the auspices 
of its own King. It is this unusual circumstance which has 
speriutlv drnwn our attention to it. 

Other changes, indeed, have given us a fresh interest in those 
distant islantls. 'Hie wise courage of Sir V.. Lytt^m Bulwor tn 
founding the colony of British Columbia, (already ad^-ancing* 



I 




' fnstM7 of Msu.' p . 326, 



I 



with 



d 



77ie Jlatcaiian hlandn. 



221 



with jriont striilcs lo wpaIiIi anil power) pjives a new value to 
thcsp natnrnl Imltiag^-placcs in tlie vast I'acifie Oconn. In thon- 
selvifs liiev pcisspss unusual attntctions. 'I'litftr very prescTice in 
Uiosc ilcM'p sc-ns is II problpm wbicli our philosophers linve nut 
yet been aLIi* t<> solve. Thr strange contrast of depths lietween 
llie ftliulluw lagoon within— anil the or.e^in, which our Kriunding- 
Itnes refuse to fathom, without — the circular reefs wliich are the 
breakwater ui" many of these islands, has perplexed the most 
duuig sjK-culators. UjHjn the whole, wc believe the best solu- 
tion of tbeii' stnin^e prnsenc-e !» to 1h> fiiuu*! in the sug^stinn 
that to the Mibiner^ed peaks ami ridge;) of iihl mountains, thcin- 
•clves the fruit ol" prolKibly submarine voleanir iTuptiotis, the 
reel-build ingr iwlypes originally fix their works, and that these are 
lifteii aloft by sniwequent volranie artion, to form the suilden 
heights of tliose island {jroups. The vast machinery of animal 
life which is thus ut work \^ beautifnlty des(Tibet) bv Captain 
Matuy: — * 

' OcMUia of nniiniduuhc' tliat maku iho tiurface nf tbu ma K|iarklu 
luul pluw with life, nTC secreting from its surfnco solid nisttcr for the 
vtrj- purpoM of hllinw up thow cavities Iwlow. Tliese littlo mnrino 
ttiKCotiiani huildiiif! thuir iialtitatiimt; nt the surfiieo, and when tliuydiu 
tbcy remain in roKt maltitudt-s, gink do^m luifl Hottle upon the bottom. 
Thoy oro th» ntonm out nf which monntains wk formed and plains 
Kpn-iul out.'. . . * As tu the immensity «f Ufi! and the piwur of convurting 
iuor^ranic material, wc have now hod specimens from tho bottom of 
tho " blue water/' in tlio narn>w Coral rca, the hrooil Pacifio, and tho 
lung Atlantic, and they all tull thi; same story, namely, that tin: bed of 
tho ocean is a vast cemetery.'t .... * The ocean especially mthiu and 
luior tlie tropicH swarniK witit life.' ^ 

As soon as these new-born rocks are lifted from the waters, all 
tlic varied atmospheric influences beg^in to play upon them ; 
with the changes which thestt work, the chance 'jetsam and 
lotsam' of the restless waters, and tlie sea-fowl, tbejr first deiil- 
soon combine to form a /iiiinuf into which the seeds which 
the driftinf^ cuiTcnts, t!ie binls of the ajr, or even the high cui^ 
rents of the air, so sedulously transport, can strike tlicir ruuta, 
and a new flora thereupon springs up. Then in ilue coui'se, by 
design or accident, comes man, for whose life and industry this 
new sphere has bi;en prepared. So Mr. Hopkins tells us that 
ancient tmditions peopled Hawiiii. 

' One of them relates to a man and wonuin arriving at Hanwi in a 
cauoc, bringing with thorn a hog, a dog, imd n (lair of fowls. TliCBe 
jKtrwoa bocomo the progenitors of the Hawiuiau people- liy uiuthur 



* Physical Ovography of t)icS*B,'§ '58, <|uoteil bv Iloiikini. 

t lb. §-89. : §761. 



lAoey, 



77w Iluuaiiau hhinds. 



vXwry, prevalont among tlio itihabitaiibi nf Oalio, a nnmltcr of poreons 
nrrivcf! in a eonoo from Tubili, uid, jjurcctTing thftt the Sftndvich 
Isluids were fertile, and were dwell in only hj gods and spirits, 
ihoy luslcuil aud ulitainLsl iMiriniiwioii li> nettlo tlicru.'—p. 74. 

il WHS a p1m;r, Indcc-d, tn nliicli it was mast t^rtain tlint sudi 
waiidt-rtTrs wouM prtitittn tu r<-iri>iiii ; for it iLtKiuiidtrd in all 
natural Iwautv, wliil&t its genial climate and its fertile sull pro- 
vided almost witbuQt toil ail that' the mere physical lift- of man 
r(>(|uirrs for its supjMit. Of Its climntc Mr. Hupkiiis tells 
us: — 

* There Is scai-cdj a plnco on the globo which bus r tcmpemture wo 
cqiuil>lo uH tlint tif Ilcmdlulii, unu nf moro doMindtlu rc^inter, or nhitro 
Uiu clouiimts aro kindlior mixed. Su inviifHii': i» the HuJijcut of w onUier 
to the islaaden, tbut Mr. Jarvis remarks tbeii hmguiige hm no word 
to (txjtruHK tho gt.'iicml idea, THu dinrniL] raiigo of thu Ihoriodinetor 
in Houolulii is twelve degrees. During twelve years the extromos of 
temperattiro in ehiida wcro W° and 62 ; the entire runge daring that 

lung poriud not exceeding 37^ Thu luutvurd tudo of the iuiuids 

bflfiks ID tlio " briglit snnny Injise of n long summur day ;" indaclng 
by the vary beauty of tlte weather soiuo degree of enervation in tho 
human ayateni, uid a corretipouding "lotus-eating" coudiUou of 
mind. A more liraoing air may be obtained by aooending tlic 
moimtnins. A m&rc ride tram tbe capilaJ up the Nauaoa Vallej will 
giTu IL cooler cliiuata in an liuur. Laliaina, uud uumo other leoDrard 
spots on tho aboro, posscM tho rofrcsliing inilncnco of a regular land 
uid seu breeze.' 

Whilst for its rtrrtility, lin snys; — 

'Begions of fertility lie at tlie bases ef tlio mOQntain« and in tlie 
valleys, where abrueioD and disintegration have proceeded for nntoltl 
years, and rich dopoeitfi of rogetablo monld have accinnulatod.' — p. 9. 

And again : — 

* Amongst its indigennufi vogctAhlcA aro tho sngar-cano, the brtsad- 
frnii, plnutAin, b&imna, coccn-DUt, candlo-uiit, ealaloah, and nthor 
THihuB ; trcc-feniB, having thu Bt«m (iftceu feet in height, and ctcm. 
Valnablo timlier trees gnsw in thu foix-sle on tho flanks of tho 
mountains ; tho Kuit troo (Ccrrlia), and others of hard and heavy wood 
with a haudaume gnun. bandiil-wood abounded on the heights.' 

' Amongst tbi vefjetablos, too, is found the " Taro " (Aram emu- 
tattnm). It formed the Btaplo of food, and is still vcty generally 
uaud. This succulent root wae sometimes cooked, but was mora 
generally ptiiwded into n Remi-fluid moss, and allowud partially to 
ferment, when it was called jwi. Among tho rcasuna wliich mado 
some Uawaiions object to visiting England was that poi oonld not be 
ubtainoci burn. Il 18 su productive that it has lH«>n mid, a htro pit a 
few yards in lenj^th will Hiipply food for ono man throughout the yoar.* 

Under this climate, and with this luwland fcrtUitj, there is no 

lack 



I 
I 
I 



I 
I 



The Hawaiian hlands. 



2^3 



Inck nf the gronrlfr frntures of natoral beauty. Again we qnulc 
fruiti jiagi" 2 of Mr. Hopkins: — 

* On Apprnncliing tlio group from certnin dirocttoDS tlio Unit obj(<ct8 
wliich mM-'t the sight trc the two lofty peaks on Hawaii, each H.OUO 
feet in height, — tvro miles and a balf,— ono of thum capifcd mtb 
parpotoal kuovt, which c'tintnuitH wiLli the deep hluo of the tropical ifky 
uhove^ and with the ilarlmc'ss of the lava fonuin;; the mdcs of tlio 
mount^nit. A nido and irregnlar outline of high lands thon i)re86uta 
itaulf ^ aud nn thc> north Kido am kgciii, mi a nearar ticw, tbo dark 
foraeta trhioh olotho tho lower rogion of tho mouutoinB ; wliilst giddy 
tveoipices fix)Dt tho eoa, of from 1(X)U to 3000 feet in pcrpcndictilu 
huit'ht, afrainst whotiti walls tlu3 WBTiis heat, and surge, anil tliuudur 
UiroQgli tiio caverns which they havu hoUowod for thciusclrcs in thoir 
ooMelflaH war. In some places, etreams which havo united their 
wators OD thuir way, nudi t(>guther uvur ouo of thutio jtaliii, or prcci- 
ptooB^ into tho ooean. 8till noaror, tho white foam is stmn puuriu^^ in 
•h«Btt over coral roefa, of which thtire ia Aomatimee an outer aud 'umos 
ridgo. Tho ialaudfi arc guuorally lofty.' 

Of such a land we may understand the dcscripUnn waxing 
pocticul, oven in a king's speech, that driest nf all documents, 
which Mr, Pitt, we arc told, could utter at will. .We need not 
lllfiel'iirc wonder to find King Kami'lumclui IV., at tlie o]H!nin^ 
of tliP *X»tivr Hawaiian AgTicuItural Society,* In lSt>B, ask: — 

' Who OTOT board of \nnt*jr upon ow shores ? When wub it so cold 
that the Inhoorer could not go to bis field ? Whcro among lu nhidl 
wo find the niunbcrk«8 drawbcicVH which in less favonrod conntries 
the working claeses hare to contend irith ? They havo do place in 
oiu- licaitttlul group, which rests on the swelling bosom of the Pacific 
like a watfir-lily,'— p. 333. 

But not more certain is the action uf such a climate as this 
upm the vegetable world, which springs into exuberant iKrinp 
nnder its smile, than u|Hm tin? race of man which is plmitcd in 
such a gardrn of delight. Fallen man ut least, with nu teaching 
higlicr than tliat of nature, must have his energies braced by 
labour, and self-restraint taught him by the daily discipline of 
c\tcn»l trials, if the humanity witliin him is not to lie softened 
into luxury or to be degenerated by sensual indulgence. \o 
ilonbt tlie progenitors of the Hawaiian people came to their islands 
of beauty direct, or ul most with some intermediate baitings, 
from what we know as the Imrning East. No doubt they bnmght 
with them the vehement internal fires which mark their race— 
it*elf a liigh one in the human family — in their ancestral homes. 
Nor have the strong tnices of their blotxl died out amongst ihcm. 
Fhyslcallv many oi the chiefs arc a noble race. 

* The Hftwaiiaus aiv strong, wull-made, aud active ; in hoi^^t raUur 

above 



22i 



The Haumi^nt Tshwts. 



ahnvo tlio nvomf^ of oar own eAontiy From llio renurlnhla 

height luid )>rilk of the cliiefe, both malos and fcmalos, tho dooinani^ 
ulafiK lias bccii coneidcrcd by smaa writors to lio a (ItKtinct uud cou- 

qnoriiig roco The womoii aro ottmctivo from their cheerful, 

smiliiig. and lively cii>rcsinon -. whiUt their merrj laugh and plcjuuint 
aloJta. or welcome, show the fucti to bo aii iudos of thoir mmd.' — 
Pi). 3*4.355. 

Ami with thcsf! phvsirnl feature* many o( their moral cha- 
ractrristirs eorres|x>n(l. 

'Coumgi! — Ktruugur than iHiUering-rnnw — m tlin IwhIs of ovory fino 
flinractcT. The Han-aimnit poHKCKu tbo virhio in an nnqnefttionahly 
high <Iegrcc. It wa^ ahowu in the old narlikc times by thoir opt^u, 
Ktuiiding-up fight. Tlutir bodicK witn; iinpntteHitpil by onnour or oven 
liy I'lntlies ; their waipoiis -wltc tho uptnir, the dagger, tbo clnb, and 
stoDoB. They did not resort to artifice or ptratagem in war. They 
am noV as pc-acoful a |>co|)le bk any upon (»irtli ; tliuy am nini-c frco 
frotii Crimea of violence than almost any nation that can Itc named. 
Their natural courogo cropc out in their lovo of, and daaing io, riding: 
in their delight hi swimumig amiiug tlio heavy brcakera rolling uvur 
tbu Tuefm; thoir du^iccnt of prucipicos, and oven in their games.' — 
p. Ub. 

* One of their omusomc&t^ woa to attack a shark, and, after having 
goudo<l and taantoil liiui, to kill him with a da^er carried in iho 
maro or girdle.' — p. 33. 

' The w'lmiuii no lotigtT fitllow Ihtjir liuKlkaiids to the battle to 
aLiniich thoir wounds or fight besido them ; but they cndnro long 
jounieya, and bear lieavy bimlenii, swim tlimugh the raging niirS, and 
plunge down tho waturfiJI into tho uci'an, when Iho leap in forty fuufc 
and upwards in height.' — p. .^10. 

Xor are they wanting in thosif sjHmlaneous bursts of potttical 
nnagerv which mark the presence of tlip inward light of uncx- 
tingoishcd gmius. Wo know few Iwirbarous mvths more stiik- 
ing than tliat t-unx-nt anioiigst the Hawaiiiins whiuh, in a gn-al 
measure, led, first to Cuptairi Cook^s rei-eplum being markcil 
almost with wor&hip, and then, through the humiliating stagvs 
down which bis nllnwiincR of that worship ('ondurte<l him, to Lis 
tragical end. 

' Uim' we read, ' tho Hawaiian HcrotUctt, was ono of tho mnjor gods.' 
* In a tit of jfuloiiBy ho killed his wife ; hut. driven to frcury by tho 
B4^t be had cuiomittcd, bn wandered tlmnigh the iiOnnds, boxing and 
wrestling mfJi all he mot : hia auHWi-r U> uvery astotuslicd inrpiirer 
hcing, " I am frantic with my groat luvc ! " Having iu6tituU<d the 
athli;tie giuniiK known ok the Mnbiikiki. in hoiiniir (rf hiK wifoK mo- 
mory, and which wt-ro ht-Id amnmlly, he sailed from Uio ialaiida in a 
triaugtdar ciuioo, for n fon-igu Uud ; but cru he de|HUted hu utturod 
UiEh jkropliooy : " I will return in nflor timeti nn an ialiuid bcurtug 
cocoa-nut ticoa, swine, and dogs." Cook's two aliiitt;, do much lai-ger 

tiuUi 



I 



The Hawaiian Itlmuh. 



225 



than uiy floating nbjootR the nativos had bttliorto soon, appeared to 
tiiem, Dot uti|ilHUHilily, JKlaiidj), tfao masts being trees ; and dow Lono 
was rctumilig to his own couub-y. From Louo wera tnippowd to Laru 
proceeded thn thunder nod lightning of the ship's guns which were 
firod.'— p. 85. 

The same temper brenks out in many of their expressions. 
The Hawaiian name (or their popular Minister Kalaimoku wns 
one worthv of the great statesman whom tliey suppose*! liim t« 
resemble; lor no worthier uamc could have been given lo 
William Pitt himself than that of tJie ' Iron Cable of Ins country.' 
So, ton, when tlip unworthy attempt of Lord Cieorge I'aulftt, in 
1843, to destroy the independence of the islands by annexing 
them to Great Britain, had beai disownctt by Admiral Thomas, 
and the K ing' announced to his peonI(? the recovery of their riphts, 
the gratelul tidings were conveyeil hv litm under the expressive 
5gure that ' the light of the laml had lieen ri'storwl t<i hira.' 

A loTC of poetry and simple music pervaded the place. 

'Poetry by turns laulted and indnincd itK native lioorurK. Thu pcfiplu 
wi^rc fond of fabulous talcs and songs, and formerly spent miieh of 
their time in telling stories, and crooning their milet, rr eonge, to the 
aect>nipaniiacnt of the miiuII dniui or tht- muKic-al Ktick. ludi^ud tho 
Hanniians ei^niLlt&d the MaritiU'Stuui, the most lively uativoR of the 
Pucijlc, iu the number of their songs, and exceeded in that i-cspeot the 
8ociuty lalaiidcrH.' — p. .1-1-1. 

But in spite of these better symptoms, we fear we must admit 
that fearful marks of degeneracy are stamped up<jn this interesting 
people. From the time when they were first known to us, thry 
were marked by an extraordinary si-nsuality, and we dare not 
hopt* that the evil is yet subdued. 

Indolence, wc are told, is one grand fault attributed Ui the 
Hawaiian race. 

* It tH vi!ry tnie tlint the delicions, i»|uub1o climate engenders in thoso.l 
constantly within its indiiencc a lotns-eating habit, a love of tho tMre ' 
far nivrUv. Their alisoltite wonts were few ; and as tho chiefs would 1 
havy pouuci'd down on any Uttlu Miirj)liia tho people coiJd have aequirod i 
by labour, they lo^t the powerful stimulus of n desire to nconmulatt^* 
—p. 361. 

And beyond indolence grosser forms of sensuality disfigure the 
fair picture. 

'The fatal gift of beaaty. a delicious climate, which rendered 
ulolhiug uuiieee)<sary- -excopt the flowery wreath, which bi>th Bcxoa, 
worft, jNirlly fmin innatx! taste, and ptu-tly to dhado the (!yL<s- -an iiido*] 
lent and pk-asurc-loving eonstimtion, abtmdsnt opportunity, tht:ir 
booscH suioil and undivided by partitions, and the atweniM of wlvorsH 
ptddir opinion,' havo Ivd to ' a general absence of ehiwtity among tho 

\'nl. 112.— iVif. 2S-S. H lU-AKiVow*. 



S26 



77w Hntoaiian Islands. 



Hawaiians. Till Unght oUiorwieo by the oiisBionarieB, the nstivos 
luul no RoncciptioD that ' bdcU coudact was ' wtoug or hortftil : they Ltd 
aot uvuu a word U> exprusM tUa^Uty iu their longiugo.' — p. 3-17. 

The meeting of Chrlstinnilv with such n people is a si^ht of 
the deepest interpst. I low much has the fiiith to nccnmplish In 
purilying so deenljr-stainfid a race I Will it work on t}if*m its 
rof^eoeratiii^ work? Will tt show ilsolf, indited, capublr ofvan- 
quiflhiiig these long-«stablishcd babit» of indulf^ence? In mnny 
respects there were fewer iinjicdiments to its reception than in 
other p»rt8 of heathendom. There was, indeed, here an elnlKirate 
system of heathen worship, with priests and saerifu-esnnd idols in 
vast abundance, liut then? wss nu strong atlachmejit tu it in the 
popular jnind ; and its rites were siiijjriilarly oppros&ivo to its 
votaries. Most irksome was the whole practice of *tabu^ — that 
stranffc instrument of priestly and of regal tyranny, which seems 
to l>c so inveterately present in all the heathen tribes of Malay 
origin, oppressing the Dvnks of Horneo • as well ns the dwellers 
in the F(iivn<»ian Bcas — by which any uhjert or person or period 
of liint: nii-;ht arbitrarily, at the will of ttie primtii, be declared 
to be consecrated, and so be guarded from touch or use or action. 
Thus tlie whole commercial life of a district might at once btf 
susjM-ndttil for an indefinite pc^rim), and al>3olute stagnation sue* 
cfed to the busy marketing of the whole seabinird population. 
Niir ilid tin* tabu suspend mmmerce only : when its strictest note 
was proclaimed lights and fires must be extinguishe<t ; alt amnse- 
ments were at an end ; noonc might enjny the needed refreshment 
of casting himscii' mV* tlia waves in which tbcy loved to sport; 
lilcncc must reign everywhere ; nor even the voices of the do- 
mestic animals might Im hoard. This religious system, more- 
over, was till- great instrument of inaintiiining the power of tlie 
chiefs, which nas absolute and oppressive. Its 5|)eeial victims 
were the women, whom it tended, by all its regulations, tji tie- 
press. They were inhibited, under jwin of death, from shar* 
iDg the better kinds of the ordijiary footl of tlie cuuntr)-. Amongst 
thosL* altogether forbidden to them Mr. Jarves enumerates iKirk, 
turtle, shark, bananas, and «)eoa-nut.t To mix in ihe aocial 
meals of the men, or even to eat under the roof which covered 
their ajmrtmcnts, was visited certainly with the same extreme 
peunlty. 

Under this bondage the people groaned. So early as 1793^ 
tm the occasion of Vancouver's visit, the king and sevrml of lb*! 
chiefs made some movemeuts towards casting it ofT. They 



■ See ' Lift in the Porott of the Far I^.' B]r8paiNrS(iJ<ilui,EKi. Vol. 

t Jantv, ' Hhlorj of Saodwicli Inlands,' p. 94. 

entrealeil 



I 
I 

IV 

i 



d 



7Vie Hawaiian ItUrnds. 



227 



entreatnl btui, when \\e left tkn islands, to send tlicm inntntrtors 
■u the English faith ; * a pmver which Mr. Hopkins tells us Van- 
couver ronveyed to Mr. I*iit. 

No help, however, come to thrm from Eufrland's Mitustor or 
Church ; and -io lon^: ns tlic strung'' hand of Kamehamohu held 
the w«'ptr« h(' njaint/iinud ns oiiu yreat instrumrnt nf his govem- 
ment thir old systi^in of rclinriun ; but at his dratli it was broken 
rudely up. The arcDunt of these chanji;es is nltr^'thrr rurious. 
Women were leading agents in their introdurtiou. VVitli nil the 
loctal restraints laid upon them, the women of Hawaii pris^sscnl 
at this timcunwonti'd politieal power, At the King's right hand, 
and a necessary sharer in his measures of state, wan one who is 
deaig'natrd in thf narrative of Mr. Hopkins as 'the Premier,' 
but who, from the account of Mr. Jarves, might, perbajis, bc^ more 
jiTojierly ilesignattnl the Home SecretaT}', whose t-iiunter-signatan* 
was essential to all state papers, and who was a wimian. l/Cl no 
evil-minded person suggest that this is an imitation of certain 
VVi'steni constitutional jf4)vernments, or drop a bint as to old 
■ womea iK-ing elsewhere in possession of the Premiership ; for the 
^L institution was purely of Hawaii origin, aud ilates from the 
H CoiK(uering founder of the island-dynasty of KamobamfOtu I,, 
W who in his will declares * tbc kingdom is Liholiho't, and Koa- 
^ liuuaiiu is his ministcr.'t 

^^Kt The old Kini; was succei'ded by this son Liholiho, — who, with 
^^^Ulis tjueen, died iifteTwiiids during his visit to England, — whilst 
^^Hdie dcsignatnil Queen, Kaohutnatiu, a woman of great strength of 
^^charactf^, elaimml in virtue of his will tii be the coadjutor nf his 
son. The old King hul somewhat ruggedly rejected tlie new 
faith. *By faith in your God,* he had answered bis would-be 
converters, ' yuu say anything can be accomplished, and the 
Christian will 1k' pre»er\e<l from all harm: if so, cast yourself 
clown from ymider precipiee; and, if you aie preserved, 1 will 
believe,'} His favourite Queen had at this time no leaning* 
\a the new faith, but she had a contempt for the old. She 
encouraged the hesitating Prince, who had succeeded to tlie 
throne, to cast aside tlie restraints of its vexatious nile. He longed 
for bis freedom with the fierceness of a savage libertine, but trcm- 
lileil before tlie threatening shadows of his old superstition. 
How long he might ha*'e tremliled witliout believing, or how far, 
if no sudden step had been taken in some At uf siekness, tlio old 
Mrrors of bis heathenism might hare repossessed and mastered 

* Jarvca, ihid., p. 1S7. 

t C«i'>tA>n \Vi]l(«g' * ODit«d Suies Exploring ExpctUtwo,* tdU iv., p. 34, 

; Clvv«lsud'B ' Voyages,' toK i, p. »»9. 

4 2 bis 



22S 



Tin' Hatpaiian Islands. 



his mincl. it is impossible tn say. Hut the coailjuttir Quer 
possessed a firincr purpose. 

' Shfl, rleturmiiicfl,' ok Mr. JarvQK J(i«cui1m» tlio scuue,* 'in her] 
opposition to tbo priests, prepRrod for decinivo muosureti. Slio scntl] 
vrord to the King, tbat upon hiti turiyttl at KHilna she should cart 
miiiU) liis god. Tii tluK liu tiiiulu uo uljjvotioii, uud with lu« rutiuuers 
piiKhed utf in cimooH from t)ie shore, ami iiiilulgc-d on thowat^ir for two - 
dare in a drunken rerol. lie tbon smoked and drank with the feuala^ 
cLiefo. 

* A feaitt WM prepared, after the customs of the conntry, with sepa- 
rate tahles for the soxes. A number of foroignors wtro cntci-tainca ivt 
tbit King's. Wbcu all were lu tlioir seats bu dL-Hbcrately arose, wtuitj 
to thn place rpserved for tho women, and seated hinifujlf ftmong thrni.f 
To complete the horror of the superstitions, he indolgcd his appetite in 
finely partaking of the viands prepared for them, directing them to do] 
likewiso : but nitli a viithinco which allowed thiit he hml but balfj 
<livcsted himself of tho idea of sacrilege and of habitnal repugn nnoe. I 
This act was stifiicient: tho highest had set an exomplo which all 
r^joictxl to follow. The glnildeuing cry arose, *' Tho taboo ia 
bniken ! the taboo is hi-okcn ! " Fcnsts were provided for all, ail 
which both sexos indiscriminately indulged. Orders were issued to 
demolish the boiaus and dtwU-oy tho Idola. Tuiapk'v, images, and 
saured property were burnt. The flames consumed tho sacrod w-lica I 
of ages. The high priest, llewahewo, who was the first to apply tho 
lurch, aud without wnosu co-opi^ratiou thu attemi>t to rerolutinniKu tho ' 
uld system would have be«ii ineffectual, roedgnea his office. Nunibcra 
of his profussioii, joining in the euthusiam, followed his example. 
Idolatry was ubolisliL-d by law. Kauiuitalii eurdially gave his sanctiou. , 
All tho islfinds, uniting in an exulting jubilee at their deliverance, pro- ' 
scntcd the singular spcctAolo of a nation without a religion.* 

It is said that as many as 40,000 idols were ile-stroyrd. 

'They wum hurled,' soyfifttr. Hopkins, ' from their plnces where they I 
had been worsliipped, upon every high hill and under every green tree ; 
they M-ere contemptaously tossed asid« to jHirish, or nioru conttmp- 
tuously Itifl forgotten as they st^MHl docjiying in grimiing iiiilweility. 
Itnmninii of these ** dcsplsc^l broken idols " arc still occasionally to bo 
found in the islands; but they arc regarded as curiosities interest- 
ing only as belougiug to a former Ktiiic nf thiugH. Then, to (iuicy'H 
CAT, caniu moaning along the rocky shores, murmuring in tiio passionate 
momitain torrents, and sighing in the winds, the molantuioly wail, 
"Great Pan is dead!" Through the old primeval fun-sts clothing 
thu Aauks nf thu Volcanoes, eclioing from drend previpirea, and hoard 
on the winds that rushed down smiling %-alleys, come tho sftino 
despairing strain, ''• Great Pan is dead V The Ocoan, as he ran his 
Waves hoarsely on (bo rude alioro and into resonnding tiavenui, tkujk 
np tho universal cry. " Blush, O Zidon, eaith the aea/' woa fonuerly 

• CleveUnd's ' Vny»go«," p, sie. 




77itf Ilaicaiiait Islaitds. 



tba ftifaortiiticin, wLcb vilu rttw ]>nUntcd and humnn sucrifioos torritiod 
the Sjriau uliurB : but uow, as tbc coming tidu 8«Qt iu bur white 
hmkkoni and boomed over the coral ledges of Hawaii, tho triumpbiuil 
Miig vrliich iiiiu^lod with tliu niar of iviktera had the same bortbcD, — - 
" Gnat Pail {» dead ! " ' * 

Bat such a revolatiou could not fail tu stir op the opposltjoq^ 
'tome. 

* A fioroc, tynuDiieal ftaocrdntalism wonid not ootiseot without A 
fitrtigglo to bu tuniL-d iidrifl with the ]irofi{)t'ct Ucfuni it uf itH iiu-mlx^rA 
having to Htnrvc, or, sttU we>nK, of having to obtain a livcliliofid by 
the hoUL'Kt lubuur of thuir Iiiindit. At-.cordingly, a patij' wiii> (jiiickljr 
fonned to oppose the Tnovi;nieut, and fur its head was svlL-otcai 
Kekaokoloui, a priost only iiifurior iu rank tu Uewahewa, and vhf 
was also uephuw to tbo lato kiiig. Heligittn n*iu> mado the bait tu 
allnnT bitn in revolt ; hut in addition ho was to have tbo oronri of the 
kingdom. Tho robols were soon encountered by the GoTommeut 
party, and iu a slight eugagement gained a gucuums. Thuy iuunu- 
diatoly niarvhod from their prieition to where the King lay, hoping 
enrprisc and take tbo position. The King's troops wore proporod^ 
and adyanced to m<itti th«m. Tliey formed a Hue on Uie ahoru, having 
thu Mia at Uinir hack, and^ on tho enemy appearing, drove tJiom before 
thorn np a rising ground, tUl the roboU gained a sbclt^^r tram a stouo 
fence, and for a time made a stand ; but they were at length driven 
fnim their position by a party <>f KnInimokii'R warriors. The iti8ur- 
gcnts wore now in flight ; but, rallied by their misgtuded cliiof, 
wounded and weak from Iors of blood, they mado a final staud.^ 
Kfslitiucikalani, ^^-ith the cuiiragu tliat belonged h> his i-aoii, fought 
dc^pcnituly ; but ho fainted and fell daring tho cDgagcmcut. an 
I'civiveil, howot-L^ ; and sitting on a fragment uf lava, for he was touJ 
weak to stand, twteo loadod Iuh luuiUiot aiid (ircd on thu ailvai]eiii|f< 
party. Ho was then Btmck by a ball lo tho left breast, and. cc^vcriug 
uiK face with his feather cloak, he expired, amidst frionds who sur- 
roimdwl him. Win wife, Maiinna, hod fought by his hido the whitlt 
with danntlcss coonigo ; bat as soon as she saw him lying dendl 
called for qnai-ter. As the words were leaving bur li]>ft, ii ballf 

lek her temple ; ruiil tbo faitliful wife fell ou the li&less body uf* 
her hnsband, and expired. 

' The engogeiaent, which commenced in tlio forenoon, vu continued 
till suusci, the idolat^jrH fighting uii. thuugh dispirited by tho loss of 
thbir Irodcr. By evening, the King's troojis wero led nuuiterH of the 
field, their enemies bavin;;; by that time fnirronderod or Hod. 

' Tlius ended the la>it battle which Hawaiian history has to nnord.* f 

Tlius wns idolntrv extirpntitl In Hawaii, uut by the counter 
influenfT of the true faith, Imt by the simple weariness felt bv 
the idulaters themselres of its intolerable Toke. isuch an event 



' StitHl«i«li Ulaadt,' p. 181. 



+ P. 166. 



IS 



230 



The IJauxtiiMt Itlundji. 



u not without b counterpart, la tho pspen recently laid before 
Parliament, as U> the rejection of the offer of the l''iji inlanden 
to cede their country to tbi? British Crown, wc find it stutcd by 
Mr. Prilchanl, in a letter to the Earl of Mahnesbury, that "one- 
ttiinl of the ]>opulatinii bas embraced Cbristianitv, wbile nearly 
aner^uat number have merely renounced dicir heathenism without 
attaching; themselves to any cn^cd.' * 

The destruction of the idols had taken place in Angiut, 1819; 
and in the early spring of the succeeding year the first actual 
mi^ionarics from aoy Christian land laiuled on the Islands.t 
They were Congregational! sis sent from Boston bv the American 
Board of Commissioners for Foreign Alissions. \ever could the 
messengers of the Christian Chorch have found a land more prc- 
jrarrd, in mmt rcsiwrts, to receive the joyful messitgc. The hand 
iif Providence itself had swept away tlie old heathen pi-ovision 
for supplying those deep cravings for some religion which are 
implanteii in every reasonable soul, and it seemed as if it needed 
but that the Standard of the Cross should be lifted up to drasr 
all men unto it. Into the details of the Mission work thus iiitr«>- 
duced, it !s not our intention to enter. We have traced it rapidly 
out in a former article, and we have nothing to withdi'aw of what 
we then said, either in the way of narrative or of anticipaCioa. 
We shall content oureelves here by endeavouring to take a 
general estimate of the effects of their work, and of the degree to 
which it still leaves the field open to other endeavours. 

Witli all the favourable circumstances then which seemctl tw 
promise the fullest success to the American Mission, there stood 
in the way of any true reception of the Gospel of purity the 
huge obstacle to which we have above alluded. Nur ore we 
disposed at all to undervalue its power. We do not forget the 
fearful words in which ll>alvian finds a reauju for the permitted 
ravages of the W'est by the incursions of the barbarians, in the 
impossibility of clcnn^lng degenerate Christendom by any liglitur 
discipline from such ficshlv sins. 

Nor do we for an instant lost- sight of the shameful facH, tliat 
the sin of Hawaii has be<>n stitreid into a fiercer flame by the 
deadly contagion of Christian vice, English vessels of war, 
American ships, the reckless crews of whalers, and escaped 
roiivicta from Botany Bav, have all aggmvated the evil ; and 
seemed to the lipalhen lo establish the terrible conclusion that 
Christianity itself, whatever great words its teachers might speak 
concerning its might, was powerless against the raging appetite 

• ' Corr«4i>0Dil«DCe reladre tnthe Fiji Itloiiil*,' p. 5. 

t Mr. Ellis savH, the; reoefaed Hawaii FtfliriiarjlUi. Mr. Jsrres gives Marcli SO 
OS tile Atf of Uinr smvnl. 



I 




Tlte Ilatraiian hluiidt. 



m 



of mnn. All these reallv trcmcadous difficulties wc allow for to 
llip full. 

Nor ilo we doubt tlmi iiidlvidunl cases of true rcnrwtil liovc 
blessed ihe zealous lubciurs of tbesc' jiR-ncht'rs of rigUlcousncss. 
Some, indeed, of tlicir converts rise even to glorious piopor- 
tions in the new life. Few acts of Christian heroism con be 
found in any records to exceed that of Kiijiiolnni, the wife uf 
Nttike, Oic public orator of the kingdom. The whole nncieut 
religion of Hawaii wns in great ineasuro coloured b_v the awful 
valranic phenomena of which these islands ore still the tlieairc. 
Nowhere else on the face of tlie known world are these so atu- 
peiidous. To deprecate the wralh of the spirits of power wKo 
ruled over dicse firc-orpics of Nature by sacrifices of every kind, 
rising up to tliosc of Xian, was the object of their rude rittuil. 
Tlie religion thus inspiretl Mr. Jarves tells us was — 

*m gloomjr and fearl'td piinciplo, abonndlnf; in punishment in the 

pTBiiont life, and dot-k thrcat«niii^s fur Uio fatoro (p. 40) 

Tho must fi-urftd of nil tlinno deitit^R wan Vele, a goddefw. Her habi- 
tation, the famous volcano uf Kilauca, well accordotl with her repnt«d 
ohazaotor. lloio with bur uttemUuit epirils sho mvoUcd in the flautos. 
The mii«rtliljr nuisus uf the buniimg maau were the mosiu of their 
ilanc'o, aii<l tboy bathed in the red surge of the fivry billows w it 
duhed against the sides of tbo orator.'— p. 4G^ 

To the base of this vast volcano, which covers one liuiidred 
and twenty square n>iles, the old heathenism, driven from the 
rest of Hawaii, slowly retreated — gatherinff up its forces lor tlic 
last encounter with the new religion. Hither, to confront in 
their very Lome of power the priests of the old faith, came fnmi 
afar this adventurous princess. She had a journey of one huiidrctl 
wiles to accomptibh before she reached the mountain. As she 
nu.'ired its side, a j>ruphetess of the insulted goddess met her 
will) warnings and denunciations of destruction. Rut she nn- 
dauntcdly persevered ; and, upon the black ledge of the scetliing 
fire, she spoke in Monls of the calmest faith to the anxious com- 
pany who waited to ace how the wrath of the goddess would 
break foith — 

* Jcborab is my Ood. He kladlod these fires. I foar Dot Felu. 
If f perish by the Bngi>r of Pelo, Uion yon inny frar tlu^ power n{ Pelo. 
Bat if Jcliovtth shall save tno from the wrath of Pole, when I brenk 
ttmttigh her Uiht'ti, then you most fear and servo the Lord Jeborali. 
All tho guda of Hawaii aro vain.' 

We bare a description of the features of the scene in tlio 
midst of which these words of calm confidence in God were 
spoken ', it is from the pen of tluit world-wide traveller (hir Count 
Strzclecki : — 

*Wh«t 



Tlie Hawaiian hhtiuh. 



'What 1 rcnicmbei',' lio sajtf, in tfao *IlawiLuiui Spectator,' *u 
«1iowiug the mighty infiaence of mighty objecto iipou me. are the 
ilifliciiltii-j^ I hiul t'> stnigglo wiUi l]i<f(tni my vya cuuld ho torn awaj 
I ftgoi the idle, viicuiit, hrit ccetutic gazes with whifh I rpgonlnl the 
gECat whole, di>mi to tho ouutrtical part of the nii]'nrallcled Hoene 
mjforu mu. I tuiy iiiii)iLnilli;h;(i, Imcaiim!, luiving visited moat of the 
Knmpoan und Amorifwi volcanoes, I find tho gi'cntcHt of thpiii inferior 
to Kilattoii in intensity. gmiKLnir. and cxt4;at or ai'ca. 

'Tho nbrnpt and )>t\.'eipiliius cliff whieh fumiH tho uorth-nortb-coHt 
wall of tlio (tmter, fotiiiil, hfler my wpented nlwervatintis, to lie olo- 
vated four thuUMaud one UimtlrL-d and four feet above the level nf tho 
Sua, OTcrluiQgn nn area of threo tuiUiuu ouo huiidrud and fifty thousand 
H^iiaru yiu-du of ba]f-c(H)le<1 mviriis Kunk to tho depth of thruo hundred 
yanU, v>d contaicing more than thrL'« hnudred aiid t^venty-eiglil Uioa- 
Hand RqUATO yards of oouvuhted torrunts of earths iu igiieotui fusion, 
and gaaoous flniils constantly iifTtirvL^iiciiig, Ixriling, HjHinting, rolling iu 
nil dirccrtionn like waTca of a disturbed aoa, violently beating the t^e 
of tlie caldtoua lOce an infuriated surf, and, like rarf. spreading all 
arouud il« spray in the fnrm of capiUary glaHfi.'whirh tills the air, 
and odhopes in a flaky and pt-ndolous form to the difttnrti-d and 
broken mawca of tlie. luva all oroimd ; five caldrons, each of aboal 
tivo thousand soTon himdrcd itquaro yardtt, almu«t at the loved of 
tbe great arua, and coiitivining only the twelfth pirt of the red 
liquid. 

•Tito Fixth caldron i» encircled by a wall of oecumuloted flcoria of 
tifty yni'db high, forming the Boath-BODth-wcet point ; the Hale mtw 
iflflw. to which the bonfis of the former high chiefs wore cjm«igned, 
tho RwinfircB to the goddetiiH Pole nflL-red, tlio abytw of abytwes, tho 
caldron of ctildroiiy, exhibiting the most irightful area of three hnn- 
dred tboneand siiuaru ynixls nf bubbling md-bi>t lava, idianging ince»- 
ttoutly ita level, Mtmotimes r<dling tho long, eurled tvuvca witli broki'U 
uiaaiioa of cooled eruirt lo one side of the borriblo laboratory ; aomo- 
timc«, as if they bad made a uiiBtukc, tuniing tliinn bark with flpodting 
fury, luid a KubUirraiifioiZA. tnrrifir noise, of a Bonnd nioro infcirual 
than t-arthly. Around are bloeica of lavn, scoria. Hinge of every 
description and combination ; hero t^Iuvated, by tbo endless nnmbcr of 
HU^kcrimposod layerK, in jK:r[H)ndicnlar walU one Ihoumuid foot high \ 
Uiem torn asunder, cracked, or remoulded ; overywhero terror, con- 
vuleiou— mighty engine of nature — nothiugnosa of man I ' 

Such was the Mteni- in wlilrli stood tbe undanntnl uilncss for 
Jehoi-ah. All old ttaditions bid her lielit-vc tliat tln-Bc tliiocs of 
convulsed Nature were tlie dirpcl ]>ersonal art* of the prt'senl 
yoddcss whose wrath she dare<i. The I'ery name by which the 
natives de&frjbo llic vitreous Hakes which ilcw wihlly. like ymy- 
loeks, aruuitd the vuht idKistn, the 'hair of Pele,' ivitiic^sfs lit the 
intensity of life witli \kliii-h the nhl sujH-rstition liad invcstol 
every act of that fieiy dmuia. Calm she stuud there in the 
majesty of faith, cast unhurt with nn untrerobling hand the sacred 

berries 



77((' Uatntiian Islmids. 



233 



brrries into tbe labuurinj^ caldron, and, likf^ the 'i*hrcc Children 
)tf old, Ipft tlw boming: rurnace without th«? smell of fire having 
jjassed u|Hiii hrr — tlir dt-stioviT <if tlip last lingering drrnd of 
llie litiig-dDinitiaiit 'Taliu.* 

The native character which could _vii?Id inn; such K[M>ciiTicn 
must be capable of great things. Still, upon the whole, we 
cannot gather that the mighty work of national regeneration has,! 
as ret, been sueccssfultv accomplished. Facts witli whii-h we 
will not stain these pages would seem to imply tliat the old 
f'iees of tlie i»hind!> have rather lj<*eri varnished over than eraili- 
cated, and that deep down in the nation's heart the dejidly evil^ 
stiil festers <>n unhealed. The depopulation of die islands aecm«i 
to continue, and its main causes an;, we tear, what they were of 
old — sensuality, and its ever-constant concomitant a pitiless in- 
bntieide. 

How far the American missionaries, with all their noble 
designs and charitahlc labours, have brought to hear up<m this 
people all the healing intluences of tlip Gospel dispensation it 
with us the question yet to be s*»lvcd. V\V believe that they 
liave not. Such a people, in the first place, needed, we iH'lievp, 
to have Christianity brought to bear upon them with as full a] 
measure as she allows of all that ap]>cals in doctrine, iu worsliip, 
aa<l in manners to the iniagtnatiun and the feelings as well as to 
tlie reason und the conscience. Instead of this, in dealing wit 
this peoph* all has been pare«l «towu to tbe sharpest outline ol 
puritanical severity. And this temper has per*'aded all (he 
dealings ol the missionaries with their converts. TTiey have, it 
seems to us, to a great degree sought to put down vice bjr 
coercion ratlier than to raise men out of it by the f^lorious truths 
wliicli flow from the doctrine of tlie Incarnation of our Lord. 
' A people,' says one of their warmest admirers,* 

' Chat livo like tho lluwaiiaiiii, cftnaot he virtuous and pure, how fw 
flOavor they may bu ChritiLiiuiiiEod; imd yijt tlu-ough the rigour of tbo 
Ian, tlio vigilanco «f niogtstnttes unil ctJUMtubloit, thu discipliiui oud 
reatnunts of the Chtu-uh, it is probable that there in no more liccn- 
tiooaiioes than among the fuuuo Dumber of inhabitants in cities of 
iSngland, Franco, or America.' 

We confess that we have little faith in works of moral healing 
which arc accomplished by the agency of the constable ; and as 
to the relative estimate which is formed by our author of the 
morality <d' the cities of England, France, or America when 
compared with that of Hawaii, we must remind him of other 
wonls of his own, on which wc will make no comment : * Almost 



• Tbe Ker. U. T. CbMrn, - The Islsod Worid.' p. lau. 



ill 



S31 



Tim liatnaiian Islawi*. 



ail tbo suspcnsionB of church-mcmbctnbip have been on accouni 
of ndultcn*,' &c." * The people arc but h.-ilf-reclnlmcd savnf^s.' t 
* TliiTf arc (.auscs nt work wliich, if iiiey are not jmhjii nrrestedf 
will rnsurc tiatiaiial (le|)opulation.'{ 

Wo think that wr lUscuver everywhere traces of the American 
missionaries trcatJaj; the people far tan much aschililron. This 
tendency, minglpd with much of tlie old severity of PuriLmistn, 
u>u5t hare been iiio&t rcpufjTiant to all the natural did)M>sittiiiis uf 
this remarkable race, ouch is the judgment of Mr. Hopkins as 
to the constitutions which, under their iiitlucnce^ were udopted 
I OS the nation's code o( Jurisprudence ; — 

'"Tbo Oomtitntion" proceeds to organize laws. Porbapa, in 
ig thaae, they may appear to adhere more closely to the letter 
' than to tlio spirit of Ood's laws undar the Moeaio dispeiuatitiu. iXi. 
Siiojwou pruuonnccs them to be the Blue Laws of Connecticut, with 
the addition of powers conferred on officers to {irartiflo extortion and 
tyranny, not ovon possosaod by a Turkish pasLu. Tho codo of law* 
regiUati^ taxation, gratuitua» tuboor of tlie peojdo for thu ijovunuaent, 
rcut of land. It cnactrt curionit regulations for tho suppression of 
idlttnoHH and onchaHtity. If a man were found " sitting iillo, or doing 
nothing '' on ono of tho days when he was freo from guvcmmunl 
lalioiu*, eTen then an officer might sot him at work for tho government 
till tbo ovoning. Thus, like the boy at school who was doing nothing, 
ho was effectually taught not to do it again. But the inventive genins 
of tho new lawgivers oxjuttiated most ardontly in regulations roUting 
to the vicos, orimcs, and sins of uuchastity. It seems as if they hsd 
spent days and nights in cuosiduring tho subject, and prci<oDting it in 
tho most uuw, iuguniuUB, and unexpuufaid lights. Thu result of thtur 
dolibcrations wns a sort of network very complex and very rototo, yet 
imc(]^nal in its texture, and oven id parte open to Uion's reproach of 
Liws, that they caught tho small flics and iulowed tlio great ones to 
bronk throngh. Suffice it for the present to say, that in tho " Law 
reflecting Lewdness " distinctions arc drawn which aro rather fine 
than nioe, with hoary peiudtics fur those who xM)iis«ifls mnnoy; while 
disproporiinnntoly sovora puuishmcnts were nffixcd to irrognlnritiee 
which moraUty condemns, but abont which European legislation is 
ailunt, cuncciviug itself concDmod with crimes ratbiv than vices, and 
leaving tho ptmishment of sin to another tribtmal. As an instanoo nf 
this disparity, in a case where tho money fine for breaking tho law was 
fixed at tn-buty dollars, ita o^nivaleut was fivo months' impnsoumcnt 
— an impriHuuiQiiut in which all tho days were to ho spent in hard 
labour, and all tlio nights pastted in heavy manacles.' — pp. 355, '25G. 

But there are, we lielieve, at work causes even dwper than 
these, which were frustrating^ the best u-fForrs of tiit-se <levolod men. 
It wouhl be to enter upon questions too distincti^^-•ly tbcologicul 
if we proceeded to inquire at any length whether the causes of 



' The Ul»nA WorM,' p, ItU. 



fib. 



t tb. p. 193. 



tbiy 



The Hawaiian hiasiiU. 235 

tbis comparative failure in their missions are not involved in th(> 
Tttligiou* sjAtcm of the Cong^re^atinnalists ; but we cannot quit 
the subject without sufrgestinjc; it as a matter for the {^invest 
rcflertion. In some of the cities of ancient Greece, cs]>ccinllv at 
Oiriiith, the first preacher* of the Gospel lm<i to strive ngninst 
the pnsvalenn* of rustoms of which it wn* a shame fur Christians 
even tn speak. Ami how did they deal with them? There is 
no withholding; of emphatic declarations of ' the wratli of Go<l 
against those which do such thiiigi, or have pleosurc in them that 
do them.' Hut with this there is a perpetual raising- before 
the converts' evrs a glorious stindnrd of rcgeiiemte huinanitv. 
Baptism ItacI traiisfrrrrd them into a kingtiom of light Christ 
himself and his blessed Spirit were within them. The Heavenly 
Kinjcdom had opened for them its portals. Old things had 
passed nway, all things had become new. 

Cungregatioiialism camiot use such language. It knows no- 
thing of the Sacramental system of the Early Church, In 
Hawaii too it has of late, in confronting Komanism, he<m ilriven 
farther from tlinse pM-uliar characteristics of the AjKistolir n^'. 
It remains to be sct-n how far our own branch of tlie Cliurch 
may l>e able to supply these deficiencies, and build up in all its 
perfpctness and beauty the Christian edifice. It is with many 
ailvanlagcs tliut it undertakes the work. Knmanism is the object 
of wii!i*-5pread hatred in (lipse islands. Here, as elsewhem, 
it has in<»st liangpnmKly s<iug-ht to transfer the ancient jKipulnr 
feeling in favour of idolatry to its own use of images; and by 
this, and other like courses of action, has brought its o^vn re- 
ligious teaching into contempt. * Their worsbi]),' said Kanlmn- 
anu, 'is likR that we have forsaken.' * This is the kind of gt»d 
We always had liefon^ viv heard of the trui? God, 1 will nut turn 
to tiial,'* said anothrr on IxMng shown by die priest a bronxc 
crucifix worn about his neck. It is moreover identified in tbe 
jiopular mind with French arms and French deigns; and vS 
thcst* there is in the islands a very li%'ely susjiicion. In spite, 
therefore, of Uie boasts of the Roman Catholics as to tbe number uf 
their converts, and in spite of the real alfet^'tion doubtless borne to 
them by. those whom tliey have won, we do not fear any really 
powerful opposition from that quarter. Happily loo, owing to 
tlie resistance of the Government and utiier causes, no Roman 
C^tluilic diocese has l>ren formed in Hawaii ; s<i tliat, in founding 
tlie hcr of Honolulu, we ciinniit be chargtK) with intruding OUT 
bishop into the field of anotlier. 

Meanwhile the welcome fmm many will be wann. The ice 



I 



S8S 



The Havcciicn IsUmth, 



(>r Honolulu, as many uf uur readers nu doubt arc awu'c, has been 
fuundcd on ihr direct application to our Queen ami to the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury of the King' himself. He is, wc have reason ti) 
fbelieve, one of the jn(*st remarkable men of theday. The heir of a 
mce of alxsoltile rulers, whirst; word was law', and who possessed 
the unrestricted power of life and death, he has gladly coK)peratcd 
in givinfj to his coiuitry a free constitution, and in ffoverninp' it 
arcfirding to the laws. Of an enlightened intelligence, familiar 
with all the literature of Europe, an adejit in all the mysteries 
:0f international taw, and in manners and all bodily exercises a 
.perfect English gentleman, if any ruler- could add strength to 
I »nch a mission as that which now leaves our shores, surely he 
Would be the one. May our ardent wishes for the futiu-e be ful- 
filled through the wisdom and zeal of him whom our Archbishop 
and his assistant suffragans are sending out on this high enter- 
prise ; and may the time come when the Melancsian band which, 
imder IJishop I'atteson, is steering northward from New Zealand, 
• may meet the southward progress of the Hawaiian Church, and 
all the rescued islands lilt up with grateful accord their hands of 
tiiaukfulnoss to Ciod ! 



Art. VUl. — I. Bicentenary of the lhiriholomewEifr:t7neiit in 186i?. 

jS(. James's Hall Atldrctses, bv Hev. Robert \''aughan, D.IX, 

Rev, John Stoughton, Alfred Rookcr, Es({., Rev. J. Edmond, 

D.n., and Rev. J. Spcnce, D.D. London, 1862. 
2. Thv Bicentenary^ the Liberation Soeieiy, and to what do it* 

Frinviplea taul'f A Lecture. Bv the Rev, J. B. ClifTurd. 

L4indon, 1«(>2. 
8. Facts and Fictions of the Biceittenan/. A Sketch from 1640 to 

1U62. Ry the R.-v.*T. Lathbury. London, 1862. 
'1. lltnv did ihetj ijet thcref ur, the Nouciutformint Afinistcrs of 

11)112. By the Rev. J. Venaliles. London, 18112. 
h. The Bicentenary Commenturatioii (i/'l<;62. A Lecture. By 

tlie Rev. J. Bardsley. Cambridge, 1862. 

6. A litiij of Lighi cast upon St. Bartholomew's Dot/, 16G2. 
Lrjndon, 18(12. 

7. Broeeediiu/r, princifkifli/ in the Countif if Kent, in coimection 
itith the 'Barliuaimt culled in 1G40.' fCditrd by the Rev. 
L. B. Larking. Camden ^<k iety. London, 1862. 

fj^HE jirojccted commemoration of the I'uritan partisans who 

JL ]»aid the pennltv of defeat by lasing their spoil just two 

huudn*d vears ago, is a very natitml wca{M>ii lor Dissenters to 

resort to in the circumstances in which they And themselves at 

the 



The Bieenhnary. 



237 



the prcsriit moiiK'nt. Tlicir causp is not pmsjurriiig «> much as 
it has prtnperetl recently ; anil the cntliusiasm of sDmr of tlicir 
■ilheronts is bt>|;innin^ to wax faint. It is very !tit(>lli|;ililr tlint 
ihcv should grasp nt evcrv Available means for rekiiulliit); thi* 
firp whic'li tlu'v fear is dyiiiE" away. A recent example bns 
shown the worKI thai S4im(* kind of cnnunizalion is tlic nntumi 
resource of a religious community iii distress. There is a »tr(mj[ 
difference, it is true, between the nature of the afllictiiins uiidci- 
which the Romanists arul the Di&senters severally Inlioiir. The 
Pope is in trouble because he has lost the grcalcr part of what 
he posscsned. nml is in a fair way to lose the rest. The Lil>crft- 
tioti SM-iety have only to deplore tluit they have not iis •nniiX » 
chalice n«t they enjoyed a short time n^ of appropriatiug the 
p(>ssessi<rns of otliers. Both have sought a refuge from their 
present troubles in contemplating the heroism of the past ; and 
in this point of view, taking quality ami quantity together into 
consideration, lioth stnnd on a tolerably equal f«>oting. The Pope 
canonizes mnrtvrs who preferred to die by horrible tortures rather 
tlian renoiuice the faith of Christ ; but he can only produce 
twenty-seven of tJiem. The Libenttion StK-iety canonizes martyrs 
who preferred to abandon what they had wrongfully acquired 
rather tlian renounce the i^cottish Covenant ; but then it pro- 
fesses to pnKlui^' two thousand of them. That a certain suspicion 
of fable attaches to the rhnmicle of MifTering is equally true in 
4>ither instimre. In Inith cases, too, tlie useful and the sweet are 
mingled ; and a sagacious forethought for practic.il needs a<Iorns 
and tempers the self-abandonment of religious veneration. The 
commemoration of botii sets of saints is intended not only to 
edify the consc'iences but to stimulate the political enthusiasm of 
the faithful. RnprisaLs upon the uiibrliever, as w<>l[ as ameiiiliiient 
«>f life, are aminig tlie results which in both ciUics the religious 
ceremonial is planned to bring about. It is chiefly in its prac- 
tical rather than its sentiment-il aspect that we anr coucemed to 
outice the commemoration that is to t.ike placf next August. 
If it wcrn merely an outlmrst of religious zeal which had srlrcteil 
a false view of history as the choiiuet Ibr its expression, it would 
be no function of ours to dispel the error. We have no particular 
taste for iconoctasm ; and if then' Ik* any whose religious sensibi- 
lities arc involved in a veneration for the sectaries of the Orcnt 
HelxdlioH, we have no desire to imptmch their sanctity. It would 
not he the first time in the historv of hagiologv that |Mirty leaders 
have been rewarded for their sen*ices by a promotion to the 
Calendar. But the literature which has already been publishctl 
upon this subject <m the Dissenting side reveals that this com- 
memoration of the sulli-rings of these holy men is eonnerted with 
aims and aspirations of it less purely spiritual character. They 



I 



aro to fonn the basis of nn argumeat by whiclt the wickedness 
of Kstaktiahed Churches in ^neral and the English Establish* 
ment iu particular is to be cnl'orccd. Under these circiunstauccs 
we may be excused for devoting a few (nges uf inquiry to the 
rlnims for canon ixation which have been thrust upon us fn)m a 
quarter !io unes.j>ect»l, and also to the abundant anathcinits which 
have biren beistuwetl u[ion the eivil and ecclesiastical rulers of 
that day for the policy they pursued. 

We have no intention of den}4ng all merit to the ejected of 16G0 
and 16ti2. Some, like Baxter, were men of distinguished piety ; 
and for the remoindcr it may be fairly arguwl thai it is always 
a iileriturlous thing to suffer any loss, whether groat or small, 
ratltrr t)iun renounce in words the genuine convictions of tho 
soul. Dut it is a kind of m«rit which, liappily for mankind, is 
not so rare that it calls for a Bicentenary commemoration. It lias 
plentifatly adorned every age in which religious controversies 
have arisen ; and our own epoch, though commonly accused of an 
undue tendency to compromise belief, has witnessed examples of it 
in great abundance. The officers in the army might as well 
have helil a Bicentenary to commcmoratu the fact that Crumwcirs 
soldiers did not run away at the battle of Worcester. It is per- 
fectly true that the Puritan ministers, like the Puritan soldiers, 
stood manfully to their colours ; but the same has been done hy 
thousands of others before and since, who have been thought to 
need no s|>ceial commemoration. They fulfdh-il the primary 
duty of their ptxifes&ion, the betrayal of which would have braudnl 
them with infamy — but they did no more. 

It cannot, tlicrelbre, be mere admiration for a sacrifice of no 
uncommon kind dmt is to unite all the Dissenting congregations 
in one simultaneous expression of feeling on the 24th of August 
next. It is anotlier passion, more easily sustained, that is ti> Iw 
fed bv a contemplation of the events of ltiC2. It is the alleged 
wrong, and not tne Tirtae, which it is intt;n(ie<i to commemomte: 
it is resentment, and not veneration, which that commemorntiun 
is intended to keep alive. But is the resentment better juitified 
than tlic veneration ? It is not sufficient to say tliat thcv were 
turned out of their livings. Before that fact amuses our indig- 
nation, we must bo satisfied that tbey had any right to hold 
them. Before we commemorate the great wrong they suflen-d in 
being ejcrted from their parsonages, it is material to inquire how 
they got into them. It is obvious that there moy be cases in which 
(he misfortune nf being rompellcd to surrender property mav not 
necessarily command our sym^Hithics. If a pickpocket has jkm- 
MMcd himself of your handkcrrJiief, ami yields it up to you again 
under the gentle pressure of the police, his most admiring and 
enthusiastic friend would not think it necessary to preach a 

sermon 



I 
I 



77f<" Bimitennrt/. 



239 



wrmon in his honour, upon the next annivpnarj^ of the event 
Nor will the transaction be ennobled, if such vicissitudes of 
possession should be the restilt of political disturbance. Few 
people would be inclinrd Ut express any keen sympathy for the 
Kapoleonir marshnls when they were nuslrd of the dotitions in 
foreign cnnntricB with which their master h:id cheaply paid thera. 
Nor, if a like misfortune should befall the Northerners who have 
quartered themselves in Southern countrj-houses, or the Taepingi 
who have housed themselves in Ning-|>o, is it probable that any 
Bicentenary will, at any future jicriipd, commemorate their suf- 
ferings, Tlif world, in slwrt^ has hithrrto perversely refuseil to 
•gard the eiiforcetl restitution of Elulen goods as a claim to the 
lunours of either political or religious martyrdom. 

It is difficult to understand why a different scale of mea- 
furement is to be adoptetl for the benefit of the religious 
belligerents nf 1640, who wcrre * hoist with their own petard* 
in tht* year 1(562. Their title to the iH'iiefices of which they 
drew tlie icveiiucs was precisely the same as Afurat's title 
to till! Kii^rdom of Naples, or Jerome's title to thtr Kingdom 
of Westphalia. They had risen by the sword, and by tlie 
swoni they fell. They made nn organised attack upon the 
Church of Kngland, in which, at first, tliey were brilliantly 
successful. Though the whole of the Eieaitive power was 
^rown into the scale aj^ainst them, they ftucci^tMlni In subverting 
the Church and Throne together, and made themselves masters 
of the power and revenues of both. The victories gained were 
vigorously followed up. It was against Episcopacy they had 
made war, and they hunted it down with unrelenting hatred. 
The Archbishop to whom they were sperially npiHispfl expiated 
upon the scalTold the crime of liaviufj prov<il(cd their enmity. 
The cIiTgy were the special object of their aiiiintisity. Sij early 
as 1P40, a Committee was appointed fur the purpose of ejecting 
'scandalous' Ministers; an'l as years went on, its area of opo- 
ntions was widened till it extended throughemt the country. 
The Head Committees sat in London; and affiliated Committees 
nrm^l with absolute uUthority were established In mi>sl of tlte 
couniifs of ICnpIand and Wales. They were formetl of tlur most 
desperate fanatics that could be got together, whatever their 
prcvitjus character or rank in life might have been. Their pro- 
ceedings were rnn'ied on in the style which gcncniny marks 
tribnimis that have beeu instituted to carry out the poHtlral 
objects iif a despotic executive. Their business was to dismiss 
ihr Ministers who were attached to the Church and Monarchy; 
anil tliey did their work with diligence and effect. Emissaries 
Were sent out to collect accusations, and it was seldom thnt some 
mau was nut to be found ti.> fatlier them. Men ol* tlw 'vanTA 



M 



240 TliA BicmtenfTiy. 

duiracter, living: by the most infamous mcans^ were eagerly 
wclcomcU by tUc Committees, if they brought with them an 
accusiitioT). No cliar^e nj^niiist the parson was ton extreme to 
be received as probable, and no tpstimooy was too vile W) 
establish it as pnned. The forms (ibsrnr-rcl by tlie ('nmmittees 
were diiittng'uishod h}' that simplicity and rapidity which usually 
characterises revolutionary tribunals. ' Divers were never called 
to answer,' say the Clergy in the Petition addressed by some 
thousari<ls of them to Sir Tlionins Kiirfax : ' srarre one bad any 
articles proved on tiatli or other h-gid pnicess, and some were put 
out on private information Riven to Mr. White, the chairman.' 
Under circumstances so favourable, it must be recorded to the 
credit of their moileration that they did not in general prove 
lieavier charges than those of dnmkruness am! immoralit}'. 
Hut tliest' were niongh fur the ubjeii thc-v had in view ; they 
suffti-i'd t[i furnish aH much of pnrlext as was rcquimi for the 
M-f^uestratioiis which the Puritans deslreil to pionouucn*. 'I*hev 
were ample fur this purpose, and they were worth very little (or 
any other. Until this year we should mit have believed that 
there ircistecl critics blind enaug'h, or shameh'ss enough, to 
blacken, upon the stren^tli of such trials as thrae, iJip jnemnry of 
the victims it{ the Puritan Persecution. It i^ evident, however, 
that an historical fact more or less is not to he allnweil to dim 
the full glory of the approaching Bicentenary. The Dissenting 
advocates actually speak of the unhappy h)yalists, whose ill fate 
it was to lall into the hnmU of these? Plundering Committees, as 
men ' ci)nvi4-tc(l nf luiitmnditv.' One would have lliought tbnt 
the world was fauiiliar enough by this time with that stalest 
device of tyranny— to mask, under the forms of a sham triiJ, the 
execution of its absolute decrees, lleforc partisan jud^s, se- 
lected without the slightest guanmtee of their independence or 
impartiality, and apjiointL'd to carry out the wishtrs of the victors 
ill a civil contest, convictions in-e matters of course. !t is only 
lately that diwjienite historians have been bohl enough to claim 
them either as a proof of die victim's ^ilt or a palliation of the 
tyrant's cruelty. We believe tliere are stern republicans who 
still believe that Marie Antoinette was guilty of the crimes of 
which she was convicted by the Revolutionary Tribmial. M, 
Louis Illanc is certainly prepared to maintain the guilt of other 
suflercrs before that court, on the }j;round of the remarkably siru- 
Itniental and tender character o{ the jurors, who often wept 
when pronouncing the fatal vi-nlict. Mr. Fniuile, we believe, is 
almost the only Kiiglish historian who has ()isj)tayc<l t}ic same 
childlike confidence in tlie dceisions of tril)unals pvonoiuirod 
directly under the cvfr of a despotic authority. It is idle to 
attempt t» reason against such a condition of mind. No argu- 

ineot 



I 



I 



J 



n^ Bieentenarif. 

mrnt that cuuUI bu eoiistructnl wtiuld be more ainvincing than 
that w}iirli Mis on llif surfsii; uf the fsL-ls. 

Ductriiml char<jes, however, were tjie most numertius. Tliov 
were often true; and where they were not, ctmid peiipraJIr he 
implied from s rery slight exaggeration of the actual fuets. 
Very mfuJcrate CUur<,*hui»nshi|) was »ut)icicnt to prove rank] 
PdjHTy when interpreted by PuritJtii witnesses mid jwlges. Thm 
Very mildest expression of n reverenee for forms, or a value for' 
tlie decencies of woi:ihi]>, w;ls sutHcient to brin^ down tbii> fatiil 
charge upon a clergyman's head. Dr. Walker has pre^er^ed a 
curious list of the proofs which were accepted as sutlicteut evi- 
dence of PopcF)-. Tbey leave in the shade even ih«we whiirh 
a few vears ago we were accustomed frequently to hear. I^t 
uiv tAste for the more pronounced ritual which the Laudiao., 
biiiliopi encouraged should have been branded with this rliargrr' 
IS intelligible enough. It was to be exjierted that a clergyman 
tho Ivjwed at the name of Jesus, or who worked I H &1 upon bis 
■dtar-eloth, should not be tolernled. But most of the accuiMtions 
are of a far less hein<ias character. Some were corulemiiet) fur 
dropping wonis onlemptuous of the Parliament; others for 
exprtrssing an uJmimcion uf the lliahops; other» for refu&ing to 
keep the fasts proclaimed by the House of Commons. One man 
was dispossessed for refusing to read the Burial Service over an 
unbapltMrd child ; another was nccusefl of ' reproaching a fellow 
for putting his hat on in rhun^b ;* anct a tliird for saving that 
* he hail rather hear a pair of organs than the singing of Mopkins'j 
Psalm-t, \vhirh ho called Hopkini^' jiggs.' Tlien> is a story- 
doubtful authenticity — tliat the Kcv. L. Plavters, of Ugsball in 
Suflblk, was dispossessed for 'eating custard in a scaoilaloua 
manner.' There is an interesting selection from these lUiciiments 
in a volume, which we liave placed at the head of this article, 
consisting of petitions against miuistcrs, which were addressed 
to the Long Parliament, at its opening, by a certain number of 
parishes in die county of Kent, lliere is u ronsiderabic divcrsitv 
in the charges whii-h an? made; but there are two whi<'h appear 
with almost onvarying regularity. The pirishL-s nearly alwavs 
complained tliat their pastor railed in the altar in his rhun-h, aiKl 
that lie exacted too much tithe from his flock^-curiouslv symbol- 
ising the revolutionary and Uie ultra- Protestant tendencies which 
fonnetl the <louble gnmnd of the rebellion.* Oec-asinnallv^the 
proceedings appcnr to have been set on foot liv the tarmei-s in 
nnler tu obtiUii aa cscune for nut paving tjlhe while it was 
jiemling.t Sometimes tlie complaint was, that the ie<'& exacted at 
marriages were too high; aometimt'A it assumed tlie Strang* r 
form that sermons were preoclivd Um seldom. The petition from 



• * Proc<«lings.' ftc. pp. IW. 13(;. 159. 196. Sl)i, ilB. 
Vol. \X%—No. aat. R 



t \b"wl...vA^:.. 



Sevenoaka remarkalil^r Uidicates tliu general feeling vrkicli pre- 
vaile<l, even in Xixe rettiuteat villages, that Hie |>ar»oils wer< 
down, aiiU might be deidt with at the tliscrctiun of their oncmit*; 
The ncrusntion on rttiirli thr intmltitAiits pniy tlir Hou&o 
C^iiimiins t<) take incusurcs against tlirir viear iii, that lit! has 
well III! his gU'lio which he keejMi fur his umii use, aiHl rofuscs 
tlirow upeii to the jiari^h.* In auather case the pronfit liave be<1 
prescr\ed uf the discreditable ueans by which, according to 
testimony of so many authorities, tlie petitions were urdlunriLj 
gilt up. Side liY siile with tlic petition from Brcdburst itgaint 
their parsttii, Sir PUlwaid Dering upfK-ars tu liuve ducketti-d and 
kept ihu protest uf a number of the siguaturles whuw; siguaturu*^ 
had l>een procured by improper means, j In one paper is th^^| 
protest of a villager, that he was inveigled into signing when ke^ 
was drunk. In another, a hdxmrer complain!] tbnt he was forced 
into tfiginng bv a tUn»t of losing his work ou the farms of a 
Puritan freehnuler; and in another a number of the parishiouer!* 
write to declare that the charges are mIioHv witliout foundation. 
Of course these charges were established with as much facility, 
and despacchcd with as much rapidity, as those which alleged 
drunkenness and immorality. Dr. Aleric Casauhon is a remark- 
able iniiUiiicn uf huw little tlie most honoured nameor the deejKat 
erudition availed to clear a jmrson from absurd charges, or to 
itave him fium a cruel punishment. He was accusetl of bowii 
to tlie altar, of railing it in, and of raising the tithe-charges to 
higlier sum than had been usual un<ler liis pmlcccssor. { 
the first charge he replies, that he had mcrelv observed 
customs which were prevalent in the cathedral to which he' 
beloiigeil. The second charge he denied ; and, in answer to the 
tliii'd, he pointed out ttiat tithen have, Ijy tlte laws of arithmetic 
a natural tendency to jncroasie when the gross value of wluih thr 
am the tidies has increased. Nevcrihelcaa he was upon the 
charges disjiosscssed, imprisoned, and fineil by the fanatic Cml 
miltes of the Commons, and compelled tu live as best he coul 
upon tlie sate of a valuable library which he hml colIei'teiI.§ Whr 
the liestoration came, ho re-entered upim his living; and 
intruder wliom he turned out was among those whose sufierin^ 
were proclaimed at the time as such a grievous persecutioa, 
whose wrongs the present generation is called upon to rcacal 
Tlie certain result of these summary proceedings before theCom^ 
mitt«es was sii well known, that sometimes the mere throat of 
them was sufficient to dispossess an obnoxious clergyman with- 
out more ado :— 

' The author of Pemrmiin Vndcrimn, who wiw a sad apectator of 
theao miaerieg of the clergy, hath left tu a rery pregnant testimoxiy 



r [» 
'in g 

i 




* • Pruomdtngs,* &c.. p. 194. 
X WnA^ p. IM. 



t lbi<I., p. 160. 
S Walker. U. 0. 



Tfie Bicnitfum/. 



243 



this purpose : *- Two or thtae RoformeK in a porisli hsoaUjt domanclod 
nn anialler matttir iif thnir I'anum tbaii ttiat bu tihoald rwign up bis 
whole livelihood at odco, viz., biti living : othcrwiBe th^y wonlil 
tbrtiatea to fotcli him D}) to tliu rorliaiiieiit ; wbicb tUrcottf aa far pru- 
Tiilcd with mauy iif liluiiiL'h'.HH lives and convi-rsiitiuii, that to avoid 
tb>e tronble tuid chargcB, and tho infinite scorn and vexation at Com- 
uittoes, aiid the Hhanie, nit it wan then ocoountod, of being runkiHl 
aroongst tho KcandotouB niin)fit«>ni, ^vo np thoir chnrvbcs, vir.., Mr. 
Mason, Dr. Howol, Mr. War»l, I>r. Pierce, Dr. Hill, Mr. Paget, Mr. 
Hunsloff, and all nthurK Bought tt> change their livings for Bunio nnru 
qniut phu!(.-ii ; and 1 Imvu hoard Mome of tlicHo maliciouK T^cmdnnerg 
not osbiuncil openly, in the &ce of a Oommittec, to profcHfl. and ^vithont 
control, that tJtcy would never give over vexing their Parmm till they 
hod worried biiu out of hia living ; and ko maeh have thtttu faetiuuH 
Hum prevailed, that Bcarcc any Parsons or Vioars ore loft in thiit city 
unseqnestercd. ' And again : " So the cose etandoth \vith the divinuA 
of England : let any ignorant hearer (suppose sn apprentice hoy— I 
havu AnoiTN it) accTiae any clergyioan (the greatest Doctor of Divinity) 
of preaching dootrines wliich tlio hoy thinks an: false or PopiHh doc- 
trmos— to the House of ConinionB or the Committee shall the divine 
bo nut for perhaps by a pnreevfuit : jastifie his doctrine he mnst not, 
though novar no tme ; tho U oiihc mippuHeth it to ho fahm, erroiieoiiii, 
Popish, or Bc-andaloiis, becAime corajilainod of. Auawor hemiiM— did 
be preach it, Aye or No f Whether it bo true or false they mil not 
dispnte; hit or niifn^, they will vote, and that's enough to make ony 
doctrine true or false, Popish or seaadAlous, and thereby to impow on 
the person of Christ's miuistor and to seize on his oetatc : to oust him 
of uU his fmehuld and Kvelihood, and to spoil him of his goodii." * 
It was well known that two or three men (though the very dregs of ^ 
tho people) pctitionii^ against the heterodox miuistcrs, have, in tho 
jiulgmont ana acceptance of a faction in the House of Oommona, 
ont-poised the rest of the parish, thoogh infinitely hoyond them, as in 
nnmbors so in (juality; their testimony being rejected with ranch 
acrimony, luid nlmriiueHB. whoro the others' lil>ul« huvu gi-u'cml credit 
and repiitotion with them : of which ho immndiatflly suhjoinH a preg- 
nant instance in tho case of Mr. L'bcstliug, of tit. Mathews, il'iidny 
street, who was jmtitioued against by souio schisuuitics, " in tliu uoiuu 
of the whole parish." though threo parte of four prote«tud against it 
imdcr their hands.' t 

But in 1643 a simpler, sharper, speedier instrument was de- 
vised for ejecting the obnoxious clergy. The Inking uf ihi? 
Covenant was made compulsorv. As this eelebrali^d document 
was in terms directed against the nxisting con&litution of the 
Church of Kngland, it made a rapid and cfTcctive I'learnncc. Id 
some distant parts of the countrv, where tlie Kovalist cause for a. 
long time maintaiiKd itself, the persecutors were for many yceors 



* rtmotOio Undtcma, P. 22, Jp. Wiiktr, u 79. 
t Mtrt. Rat. 1»1. Ap. Wathr, U 79. 

r2 



niwbl 



^^ 



244 TVw Binentenartf. 

luiable to apply Uie new test ; but in most places it wrs racrri- 
lenly eniortcd. 

The runsciiueiiccs of tliis pmceutitm aio inadequately ex- 
pressed by the fact that fmin six to w\k\i thousand rler|;ymeii, 
thrir wivi's aud fainiltes lost tliuir llvi-lihood. They were gene- 
rally turned out under cirrumstances of great barbarity, and 
SDiiu-tiiiieii ol' atrocious violence. The middle of tlie ni^ht was 
ol'tcn chosen lor the execution of the sentence ; ami no circum- 
stances of sickness ur infirmity, however piteoua, availed to stay 
iho Course of the rude soldiery who were charged with its exccil* 
tion. The pregnant, the newly-delivered, the bedridden, the 
infirm, were thrown out at midnii^lit into thp street or rond. 
sometimes witli the snow <m the firrtmnd, and left to lihelter them- 
selves as l)est they could under hwlfjes or in biims, .in<l fi'ed 
themselves on emb-appleb 4ir turnip-tops until thev could itbt'iin 
some scanty alms from tlie pity of a roncenled adhrirent. Sune- 
times the minUlerwas hurried ofi'to the hiatlisome prisons which 
the Long Parlian]cnt hatl erected in hulks upon the river ; and 
tlie destitution oi the wives and children was even more hoiielrss 
than l>rforp, As tiini* went on thpir .sulTering.i incrcTSMi. renal 
luws wi-n> passird ])niliiliitin}>', undiT sfMore pcnattipii, the trading 
even in a private room of tin; lorniularies lu which the clergy 
were in conscience bound. Ami that no impulimeut to tlie 
complete starvation of the clcrpv might be left, it was ai last 
made a punishable olfencc to employ any minister, who had 
I»r*?n dppriveil of hi» living, in the education of the young. Tin* 
conseiiueners were what might have l»ern ex{>rcted. T}u> slri'n^h 
of tliuusaiids ga^e way under the hardships tu wliich ihev wen* 
exposed. Hunted out of every employment in which they could 
^ct thrir living, coiulemned to beg their bread in a land devas- 
tated b>' civil wor, with the ban of the rtding powers laid 
ti]>nn tlu-ni, tlu- viist majority of tht^m [M'rished miserablv. Out 
of a number^ vaiiouslv eoniputetl from six to ten thousand, who 
were ejected during; the Commonwealth, only six hundrctl. livpil 
t*> claim tUeir rights when the King came back in 16tiO.* Of 

the 

* I>r. Vaugtuui'i wnv uf ImDdlttig these uu-lnnclioly figarvs b bold and iufteoiMix. 

Ue sppean to Xm whotljr niiftwnrr of the tendency of stamtion lo (horien tiumu ^m 

liA) and arpurt. from tbt! fact that o&ly <a\.*i sui-riTi'tl m ICfio. that thenr ik*49- ^H 

Miutd have bitrn man}' luore in exiitincx-. liif> arffiimi-ui \i worth exlraicliiif; : — ^H 

* Hut ihere iH a briefitr wej- of AMthiif: tliii yxAux. \t Oiitiu wrre in ihi> coaditiun ^H 

tif M.-uu«ttr«li.-d clvtyy lu 1&-I4, "v tiiljirancntlf, tbvn, acvDnlinit (<> th« lk«« of ^H 

tmirtalii}. tliiTv iituKt law bi-irn .t£l»', bu<1 niurv. uf thus** men uhvv lu 1^60, n«l " 

claimini; la he put Iwck iitio ihcir ltiiiif;$. All llist wort- w living nl that tunc* . 

were put bark, and Ibu nhole imuibrr that were fo rcklortd tlid tiul appcur (o ^m 

liavL* nitiuitntM to tiinrir ttiau Miimr t'lTc ur six hiiudnn]. Tliir iioiitt. llierefotv. IS ^H 

hiruUtit \}\ thr \xuM cvnuiH ui' tvM». This U u courw of iii(|uirr u blch 1 Iibtp ^^ 
wurkud nnl for niytelf. But I woald not rest ali!6«d with my owu vUlentaiioDfi. 



I 



I ai*r ^1 



The Bicentenary. 



245 



the few whw sunived, maHv were so crippled with the debts they 
hatl coalractcd durins: tlu* tniubirs, th«t the Rcstorntiim srarrelj 
brought tliPDi any atieviiitioii nf tl«?ir dislivBS. 

It is of uiurse open to the N'otironforinists ti) reply, tlmt Uicsc 
sufferings were the unliappv but unavoidable consequences of 
civil war. It was imiwssiblc for the Parliament, who were the 
victors in Uic contest, to leave in jK»ssession of the pulpits men 
who were invetcrnteU" hostile to their rule. Such sufFcrings 
are no noreltv ; but thev have liecn tlie lot of the clergy in 
almost every country in which they have hjul the misfortune to 
lie opiwsed to the victorious party. To such a view of history . 
tlirrc IS nothing t<i object. A time of civil war is a time when ^1 
all thf! nrdinnry obli;;ations of political morality are s/imewhat ^^ 
•tj^inrd. Things are rlone «-hich it is equally difficult to avoid 
or to approve. All the details of violence and Injustice are 
covere<I by the one preat necessity, if sucli there «'erc, to which 
tlie original ap|W'al to arms was due. VVc have no objection 
to this mmh- of reaHonin^, but it must be applictl impartially 
to IkiiIi sides. If it <-n%vrs the theft, It must also cover the 
restitution. If it was inevitable that the ('hurch should lose 
her revenues when she was worsted in the civil war, it was 
cfjonlly inrvitable that she should take them Imck when she 
recovered her old p'tsition. 

Hut it mu.it in fairness be said that the Puritan divines did 
not carry through the ejeclnicnt of tlielr oppmrnis as a sad 
nccciHsity imposed ii]K»n tlnrni by |Mjlitti-al coiisidci-ations. They 
do not ap)>ear to have wastt^l anv superfluous commiseration 
upon the Prelatists. Thev looked upon It as a spoiling of the 
Kffvptians — a legitimntc source Iwlh of plensure and profit per- 
mitt<!il to the jMHiplc of Ciod. Some instances from Walker's 
colU'ctioi) will illustrate tJie spirit in which many «if them went 
ti* work, and the claim which thev possessed b> the srmpnthy 
of others when they fell into n like trouble themselves. 

' About thu juar 1G45, ho (J. Oandy) wok totally dispoeaeewd of 
tJio living, nuii his &mily thrown out of the door, by a party of 

I btTw o1>tshKd the ofniiiao of («o of the first sctBarl«c snd siatlcUn id this 
kmgilom — one of tlicm ought tu V, from hU poohina. Uiv sevy first — wkI this is 
tlicir t^laU-nieut: — II' tbcrr were C<>ti<> men alivr, of 24 yean, of a^ nml spwards, 
ill IG44, there ought to havi^ Ihtco 9(;^H) of tlxwc int-n livii>g ia IGOU; and the 
namber of fjet'tt-d minislem ai-cordiugly, l«twoen ihi* spring; of lOOO mid the 
oattiBin of lt)''V, iHight to hiiv« tifirn Itciwecu 60ih) auil fiOuO! 1 du hnpi', ibvrc- 
foK, thKt «« slial) bvu- DO morv nbuut tlinc «x)o fwiMStcr^d cl«r(r7Tn>fn. 

Wc hniK- that the next lime he lavvta hisfrienas Ifac Bctuanc*. he wtll tell 
lh«ui of Uh- .iNcgation which certain camempornries haTe made, that thu graaivr 
part of iho taiii fi'KUi cliTjiviiipn hiiJ little or uolLing to eat during the inlerral in 
•|UV>tii7ii. Ferhaps ihey will inforin him "hciber that circumsuuce woulii msfcv 
aay dUTtireiicc in the calcalaticii of ih<^r prul«hlc vitality . 

\ssain 



I 



Si6 



The BicentenaTy. 



LurBowbicK camo to Iu« lioast-, nn<l (Iraggod liis wife, who Dion ki^pt 

.poeacaaion for bcr hnRhnnd, out by forco ; anH when she wwiW caich 

at tho BtftpleB of the door to rt«y ber»elf, or rtiv othi>r thiiif?, th^y 

wuuld barhATously kut>ck off her hwiilB, until nt lungth thoy ftircibly 

throw her into tho street with w^vcral littlo chitdron sho hiu}, there to 

.liMg or to etano, whirb thoy wnnM, There nro Komo cironmRtaaow 

which mutih ^mhanco tho l>arhsrity uf Ihiu uctiou. Out) in, tiiat Hra. 

(iandy was then bkt^ly out of childtKd, and hnd the yottng child it 

bi^r brootit. AiioOu^r in, tliat the intriidiir wur thoni hintscilf in pOTSOOf 

tuid a »)[»)Ctul4)r of thm nhole tmnstt«tiuii : his iiiuuu vran JcUufrur ; lio 

, VAS a (lormau, who had flud from his own country npou tho account 

of n^Iigion furvonch [ luiil rmiiing to Esebiir in • vory poor conditinn, 

bad bcvit rotic-Tcd by Mrs. Qmody'B father.' 

Mr. .Ir>lin)^r, tho hero of this anecdote, was afterwards one 
of tin: St BarllioloHicw martyr*. VVhfii that day arrived, a 
Hitiidl [loi'tioii of tlie nieasurf that be hud iiieteLl out to others 
was inetfd oui to biiu. In the addresst^'s ubicb were delivered in 
St. Jiimc&'ii Hall last March, there are many tiwcbinfi; |m88a^eft 
depicting the last hours spent by these St. Cartholonicw martvrs 
in tbcir bcnr6cc». We arc told bow, on the Sunday before, 
*no inflammatory discourses were deUvereil, but even those who 
bwl been somewhat narrow and pi-ejudiced Utfore, rose on the 
orcasion to th«^ noblest heights of fwliii^, and uttered sentiments 
of Cadiolic chiiril)-, broad and iM-autiful.' It is ijiratifviiig Iti 
And, that even iit this moment of tJieir cation iz^iti on, we are 
allowed to bcHcrc that some of them like Mr. Jelinger may 
have been 'narrow and prejudiced bclorc.' It was a narrow- 
nets and prejudice which was shared by seteral of his brother 
martvTB, and bad the effect of reducing many worthy Church 
people, who have not been promoted to the dignity uf martyr^ 
to the very extrcmitv of want. It was in the matter of what 
were called 'the fifths,' that these small failinj^ had tlie most 
EiTious resufts. In dispossessing^ the clergy, the l^ng Parliament 
had cnnctiHl, tlmt in the case wliere the ejected clergy linil wives 
luid children, and bad not be<^n convicted of overt royalisro, 
they should enjov wtme allowance out of their former incomes, 
not exceeding one-fifth, ilut what pro|)ortion of the fifth should 
be Allotted to them, and whether any of it should be paid, was 
in practice left to tho alMolutc discretion of the Puritan intruder. 
There was a refined cruelty in leaving the clergy to the trndcr 
mercies of their tbeologirsl antagonists. Leave to lieg of ibe 
men who bad tuminl tbem out was nndiuibtcflly the bitterest 
as well as tlu* srantieiit form of relief that could l>e devised. 
In practice, as might be expected, it was no relief at nil. 
.-\s it was siKrciidlv provided that the parson was iu)t to go oa 
residing within nis own parish,' it was alwa^'s a matter of 

latxHir 



r 



Tke Bicentenary. 247 

labour and difficulty even to apply for the fifth ; and, as a rule, it 
was either roundly refused, or evaded on some transparent 
pretext One of the favourite pretences was to assert that 
the clergyman on whose behalf application was made was 
no longer living. At Westmonton the sequestered clei^yman 
applied himself to Dr. Elford, the intruder, and received the 
usual answer. On his assuring his successor that the clergyman 
in question certainly was not dead, for that it was he himself 
who was speaking. Dr. Elford, nothing daunted, replied to 
him, that even if he was alive naturally, yet he was dead in tres- 
passes and sins. Many similar stories are related by Walker, 
apparently upon contemporary authority. At another place a 
Mrs. Pierce, the wife of a sequestrated clerk, applied to Mr. 
Chishull, the intruder, for her fifths, on the ground that she had 
six small children. He is said to have replied, ' that he had a 
pair of geldings in the stables and a groom too, which must be 
maintained, and were more chargeable than all her children.' 
At East Isly, Berks, the intruder, a Mr. Francis, being asked for 
fifths, simply refused. His predecessor being in extreme dis- 
tress, sent his little daughter to him to beg again, ' hoping her 
innocence might move him.' But again the application was 
refused. Then the child said, ' But we must all starve if we 
are not relieved.' Mr. Francis's answer was, ' Starving is as 
near a way to Heaven as any other.' It is to be hoped that he 
found it so when the retribution of 1662 came round; for both 
he and the hero of the preceding anecdote were St. Bartholomew 
martyrs, and as such are the present idols of Nonconformist 
adoration. They were among the men who, on that day, accord- 
ing to Mr. Stoughton, ' rose to the noblest heights of feeling, and 
uttered sentiments of Catholic charity broad and beautiful.' At 
the time when the question of paying fifths to the starving 
clei^y was before them, the Catholic charity, brt^d and beau- 
tiful, had not been developed. It was no doubt quickened into 
being with marvellous rapidity by a contemplation of the Act 
of Uniformity. 

If these anecdotes, which, together with multitudes of others of 
like character, have come down to us, represent the prevalent tone 
of conduct among the Puritan clergy, they cannot be held guiltless 
of the frightful sufferings which were endured by the Episco- 
palians whom they had expelled. At all events, while the latter 
were flying into exile or begging their bread from parish to 
parish, or dying off of sheer starvation, the Presbyterians to 
whom their miseries were owing, were peaceably enjoying the 
pleasant fruits of victory. The Clergy who had preached up 
rebellion, and hounded on the multitude against die Bishops, 

and 



S4i6 



'flu liicaiieuanf. 



and U) whose efforts the overthrow of the Tlininc was due, were 
rosiiiig on th(r fruits of their I:iiK(Uv&. Thcv were not nltogelhcr 
satisfied with the turn thiogs hiid taken : for like the Ciirondins 
m the French rcvolutlou, they had been outbidden luid overcome 
by innovators inon- lulvonired than tlieiiiselves. But though 
Cromweirs rule was heavy, hf did not disturb them in the ph-a- 
sant nests from which thev liad rxiiclted the rightful owners; 
:uid therefore, tliough they murmured, they did not <|uarrel with 
his despotism. Bui in time the revolution ran its course — the 
frenzy s|)cnt itself — the fact was recognised that the armed 
demand for lilierty had only bred worse evils tlian !l cured, 
'llie time of restitution eame round. The Ohl Monarcliy find 
the Old Church were Aet up ;ia they had been before the evil 
days boiifaa. All the U5uri>ations tlaat had sprung up during 
twenty years of revolutionary government were overthrown. 
All who had niade the troubles a pretext or an fK-rasIon for 
phinHrr, were forced to disgorge tlieir bwoty. And among other 
restitutions, came the restitution of her property to ihft ChurclL 
'J'hose who, umler the shield of an usurpetl authority hntl fifteen 
or eighteen years Iwforc driven the rightful owners out to starve, 
wtTt" eoinjM'Iled to yield up what they had wrongfully t«kcii. 
Ihit tliis retribution, though rigonmsly just, was not lilRrally 
prrssc<I In every instance. Where the ejecteil owner still lived 
lo claim his rightt, rest!tuti<m was summarily cnforceil. Among 
those who suFTercHJ under this obviously righteous measure was 
Richard Baxter. His prcdeccssw, a man by his own confessiiin 
of blninclrss life, w.is still alive: and he re-entered without 
ilrl.-iv u|H>n tlir nglit-t of which he had been so long ilepriveil. It is 
not a little signifit-Hnt that Biixter is claimed by Mr. •Slcinghton 
as one of the ejecltfd martyrs of duit time — though one would 
have tlinught tliat no question concerning the justice of his 
ejectment could have arisen. But those intruders whose good 
fortune it was that their ousted ]>redece8S4>rs had perisheil in the 
interval, were fiufTcreil to n'main upon one condition ; iitid that 
condition it is wlrich now nnises a useful and o]ipt>rtuni> sym- 
jKithy for their memory. 'ITit-y were re<juirud to accept the 
principles of the Church of Kngland ; and to ascertain the 
nrality of this acceptation, they were compelled to subscribe 
the formularies which we at present use, which htul Itcen settled 
in Convocation, and been approved by the nnwlv-i-lifti'il House 
of Commons without a dissenlient voice. Thi- la]g«; majority 
BCceptcd these terms, and remuined in iKissessIun of their livings. 
A certain number, variously computed at from one to two thou- 
sand, declined and were ejccteih 

It is diflicull to imagine a clearer case. In restorin|^ those 

who 



TAr JUicenieiMfff. 



2411 



w)h) liiuJt brcii laivkssly put uut, the Parliuracnt el' the Restora- 
tion jic'rt'oniml nil art u( simple justice. In cxaetinjj^ a test of 
aUeg»am:e l« the reslort-d ("hurt-h from tlip remaininp intruders, 
ther tiK>k a measure uf imllspensaljlr jimcaiition. It Man not a 
mere qDcslian of clemency or retilialion that presented itself to 
the Parliament of that day. They were not pronoancinff the 
t)iM>m c»f ronijuered reljels fn>in the eminence of an unshaken 
power. Their task vras far more difficult. It was to prop up an 
authority which had lieen rudely shattered, and Init imperfectly 
regtorwl. Their first dutv was to shelter from cjiternal injury 
t}ieir fresh anil frajrile ^truciure. Thev knew by a sad exi)erience 
dearly won, that no assaults npiinst it were so ftffmidaljle as 
those which were levelled njfainst it from the pulpit. Preachers 
lia<l dcstroyril tlip Old Church and the yet unbroken power of 
the 'llirone : and pre.ichers might well l)c able to cast down 
afrain a 7'lironc and Cliurch so recently lifted from the dtut. 
That die allegiance of the clerjry to the Church should Ise well 
astHTtained, was not only just in itself to the Church, and to tlie 
t'on;jreg.ntions over wlmm tbey wire to watch, but was im|wn- 
ously demandetl by considerations of policy. It may be »ell lu 
conciliate malcontents* before ihey have succeeded: but to yield 
l« them pmitions of influence, while the mcmorv of their tiiiinei" 
succpsw* is still fresh in their minds, is to make them not friends 
but m<isk-rs. Their <-onscioii!>ne!is of power, atteste<I bv imjuinily, 
would have b(H.-na slnm^^cr emotifin than iheirfrratiUuK' furii I'livoiir 
which they would have' ascribt-'d to fear. Tiiere are evil* attendaut 
upon every change of |>oliticul power, even where it consists «1" 
the restomtion uf a ri^hlfuE claimant and the overthrow of an 
usurped authority : and one of tliose cvila is, that Uie partisans of 
the dis])lacctl rc^imr must be excluded from odiccs of inlluenrc, 
in which tliey may fiud facilllies for pIottiii;£f for its ictutn. Rut 
if ever there was a case in which this neces&iiry proscription wore 
Oic aspect of a rigiiteous retribution, it was in the case of the 
^^^ Nonixmfor mists of 1602. If they were |>trrsccut**d, they bad per- 
^^■•ecnited others — Churchmen, Romanists, and Quakers — with far 
^^^ more vehemence and cj-uelty. If they were silenced from public 
H preaching, thev had imprisoneil men for even reading in the 
I privacy of their own rooms the form of prayer which they had 
H been brought up to revere. If they were n-fused toleration, tliev 
■ hnfl liieuiselves den<uiiiccd it as 'the greatest courtesy the Devd 
H could ask of the State.' It was a piteous sight, no doubt, to see the 
H wives and children going forth from tlieir parsonnges to starve. 
I But it wasa sight which the Nonconformists of 1G62 did not then 
I see for the first time Its full piteousness had not struck them so 
B forcibly on a former occasion, when those who were doomed to 
^^^ wander 




250 



The Jiicentcnari/. 



WTUidcr fuiili without n linnic anil witluiut a hope were Cburch 
ppoplf, ond when they themselves wero iho favoured niccessnn 
for whtise benefit the ejectment wa» enforced. It makes, no 
doubt, a {^nt difference in a nan't feelings on such occasions 
wlirther ho is the coming-in tennnt or the going-tmt. Hut tlicrc 
is nn impudence verging on llje gi-otewiiie in asking pisterity to 
mourn for the nufTirings of those who, having ])itilp8»ly inflicted 
tliis destitution u|xiu the rightful owners in the first instaocc, 
were in due course subjecteci to it themselves. It would be as 
rensnnabic to ask us to sympatiiize with Bonner in jirisnn, or with 
Kiibespierre at the guillotine. 

Onr estimate of tlin I'uritnn incjiml>ents, whose virtue in not 
keeping by n|xistjwy wlmt tliev harl gjiine<l hy violence wo arc 
now called upon to adote, m;iy w-em prejudiced and harkh. 
No doubt a case may be made for them, as it may Ik*, and has 
been, for most offendei-s in historv, by the simph- plan of denyine 
the veracity of nil autltorities that do not take their side. Sucu 
an exercise of ingenuity was cBplivnting when it was new; bnt 
tlie device has been practisiil now til! it is worn out. Since the 
whitewashing of Alexander Borgia and Tiljcrius, the canoniznlion 
■if the Puritan intruders is a flat and insignificant achievement. 
Hut to show that our view is not the fruit of any monarchical or 
cpiseo|uilinn prejudices, we will quote tlie words of an eyo- 
witnesii whose mind was iwt warped bv anv liias lu that direc- 
tion. John Milton is the witness we propose to calL lilt 
scorn for the character of his wbllome allies evidently proceeds 
from a minute and familiar knowledge, and his mind was so full 
of it that he could not refrain from interpolating the expression 
of it into the middle of a. history of the contests between tbc 
Dritons and the Picts. We quote from tJie thinl book of his 
* liistory of England : * 

' And if the State wore in this plight, religion vraa not in much but- ' 
tcr : to reform which, a certain nnmhor of dinnos was called, Boithoi 
ehoMn by any rulo or cnstom eccleMOfitieal, nor ominL-nl for fiither 
piety or seal ahoro others left nut ; only a» each Sfoniber of Parlia- 
ment in his jirivalo fltficy thonght fit, so elected one by one. The most 
port of them wore soob an I184I pr««chcd and cried down nilh grt«t 
phow of zeal the nvariee nud plnnJitiea nf bishopH and prelatee ; that 
one euro of Bouk wiw Ml emplojiucnt for one spiritual pastor, how 
able soeror, if not a cliarge mtber abo\ro homau strougtL. Yet them 
ooDMieQtioiU mm (cru any |iart of Iho work done for which LheyoamQ 
to togiitlier, and that i>n public Balary} wanted not boldooss. to ihv igno- 
miny and scandal of tliuir pJuit(ii--Uko profeesion, and spooially of Lboir 
hooMod rofonnatioti, to miito into their hands, or not min-illinglj to 
Boccpt (boBidcs one, somuHnu^ two or more of Iho bout liviug^) col- 
logiato maatcrshipa in tlto Universities, rich lectunx in the City, 

Butting 



I 



I 



Tfa Bicentemri/. 



251 



witiiig fwil to nil winilR tbnt migbt Mow gnin into tlieir covntouB 
bowma ; bv which inenns these great rabnkcrfi nf non-rcsidohcc, unong 
ao man;* dlstiuit cnroft, irare not asbaiuod to bo boch ko quicklj plu- 
raliita and non-residants themselTeB, to & fearful cotidiitiiuntiou, 
doabtleAs, out of their own months. And jot the nuiiu doctriDc for 
which they took eurh [iiiy, luid insistod with moro vohcniouco than 
gOin>ol, Wiw but ti) tell iH in eHcct that their doctniiu koh tvurUi 
tiotbing, and thu spirituAl jvowcr t>f thoir ministry \aisii avuilHblu than 
bodily cumpuUiou ; jicrsuiuliug llio uiagistiiito to lUiu it as u stronger 
ttimns t(i fiiiWtin and bring in tiio ron^tritmcua tliaii uvuiigulieal por- 
rauion, dietrusting the virtuo of their own spiritual weapons, which 
were given Uiem, if tlioy bo rightly cnllcd, with fall warrant of dof- 
ficieucy to pnll donn all thoughb; luid iumgiimtimiH tlmt exalt thoni<- 
•elveo against God. But whilo they tangbt cotnpulsiou without 
convinocmcni, which not long before ttioy oomplained of U exeoulod 
imuhriNtianly agaiuKt thoiiiKeIvi.«, ihtiir iutentn are dear to faavo boon 
no better than anti christian ; utting up n spiritnal tynuioy \ff a 
^ecuhu- power to the advancing of their own authority ahoTe tho 
inagiatmtu, vrhum thi-y vrouid liave made thoir oxecutiouer, to punish 
Cliarcb doUnqnc-ncies, whoroof civil laws have no cognisance. 

' And well did tlieir disciplott manifest tlieniselvoB t«) bo no bettor 
prinriplcd than tlioir ttjuchcrs ; tnifited with coiiunittecships and other 
gainful offices, n])on thoir commendatiouii for zculous, and as they 
Pticbod not to tenn tliem, godly men, bnt exoontizt^ thuir plans like 
childrtu of tlie dovil, nnfuthfally, m^Jmtly, nmnM-dfally, and. whore 
not corruptly, Btapidly. Ho that between them tho h^acheni, and tlicM 
Ui8 disoiploa, there liath mtt boon a niuru i^omiiiiuufl lUtd mortal 
woniid to faith, to piety, to the work of rLfumiatiou, nor more oaaau 
of bla«phumiug given to the «auiDuefl of God and truth, aince the firvt 
' preaobing of tliu reformation. 

* Thu iH'oplo, thcrofore, looking on tho Cfaorohmen whom they saw 
under aubtle hypocrisy to have preached their own follies, most of 
tliunt nut the Giispel. tinie-iwrverB, cuTotoiis, iUiteralo pentucut^^ini, not 
lovers of the truth, like in most thing* whereof they accuaed tlioir 
predcccflsors ;~-looking on all this, tho people, which had been kept 
wanu for a while with Lhn noniitxsrfttit zi-aJ of thoir pulpits, after a &]m 
h«ai beoame more cold and obdurato than before, oome turning to 
lewdueaa, some to flat Atheism, — pat beaido tboir old religion, and 
foully aviuidaliHed io wliat they oS|»M:ti^ should bo now.'* 

Such, ill the jmlgment of Jidiii Milton, was thu chnrartrr of 
tlic mou of wboin imr inndcm \onconfui;inisls proclaim tbem- 
aoh'cs tlie successors. iSuch, in the eyes, not of an adventary, 
but merely of a disenchanted friend, was tlie hue of ihal sanctity 
whk'b now, after the lap^e of two hiuidrri) vpnrs, nrrds a Hiirtn* 
tcnary festival to celebrate it worthily. Dr. Vaughaii proposes 
summarily to ignore Walker's 'Hiatory of tlie iiulTeriugs of the 






4 



■ Bitt. of EiiglBtu].' Book Ui. princip. 



ClcriSlj' 



252 Tilt Bkentemmf. 

Cler^V * *>n the ground iil' the anivitts betrayed by his prcfiirc. 
Walker was umluubtedl^ a Kovallst, ami, to a certain extent, a 
High Cliur<:hman ; but there is in his preface no dcnunciatiun of 
the I'uritan intruders op oI" their spcular instruments more severe 
than that which is contained in the above judgment of thcRcpuh- 
!icun aiwl Puritin John Mihon. 

It is fair tn day that the incumbents repaid with interest the 
invectives of their critics. The words of Baxter, one of the 
ejected, may suffice as a sample : ' llic late ^ncration uf proud, 
ignorant sectaries amongst us have quite outstripped in lliis (vt:ii. 
self-suffirieiK-y ami censure of others) the vilest perspiniUirs. He 
is the nblest of their ministers that ran rail at miiiistent in the 
most devilish fashion/ TIte two sections had been lon^ enough 
in each other's company to be fully alive to each other's frailties. 
The Independents were angry with the Presbyterians for their 
hyporrisv. f^™! •!•** Prrshvterinns were disj^sted willi tlie inviv 
terntf! turhuleiice whii'h was not satisfntl with the hap|iy changPi 
that had veslwl all the Cliurch rcvenut* in themselves. There 
is ii proverbial advantage that results («» honest men from the 
falling out of such mlvcrsaries ; and io it happened in the 
year 1660. 

Time has burie-d in ohlivirin the heartv enmity witli which 
the two s*-etionK of Nonconfurmists regnrdiil cac-h other at tlic 
lit^tnnttion. In spite of their ilIlTering principles u{)on the 
tiuesti<iii of Establishments, their alliance as aiitagDiiistA uf 
the Church of England has rcvivwl in its full force. Whetlier 
the resuscitatr<I friendship is to liear the fruits it bore uf old, 
time alom* can show. 

Theixt is something painfully ominous in this ostentatious com- 
bination of diose who do and those who do nut admit the law- 
folness of a State religion ; and it is not reassuring to find that 
the coalition takes place In honour oj' a stmilnr coalition which 
overthrew Church and Tlirone two hundred years ago. There 
is a curious analogy between the two |H.-riiKls. The Indejien- 
dents were fully conscious that by themselves they were too few 
and too unpopular to overthrow the Church which they abhorred. 
Accordingly they made common cause with religionistji with 
whom they had little in common, and wliosc Erostiantsm Oiey at 
heart despised ; trusting to (he course of events to ilispose of 
their allies, when their allies had scn'ed tlie purpose of the 
moment. They did not put forward their own views very pro- 
minently. They kept their fierce republicanism and their bitter 
aversion to a national Church in the hackgruund, bihI they 
allowed their instruments, the Presbyterians, to come forward to 
direct the first onset and carry off the corliest spoil. Bv the help 



77ffl Bicentenary, 



253 



of the Presbyterians they were able (o uproot both Church aad 
j jnoDarchy ; and whfu tliai vrurk was ili)ne. they gained power 
enough to lay e(iu.'i]ly low the Presbvterinns thpmscUes. Their 
disappoiiitml allies repented when it was too late; fur they justly 
felt that without their aid the enterprise of the Independents must 
inevilnblv have misciuried. But they ditl not discover either 
ilkat Hwy were suwin* a erop wliich others were to n-Oj), or that 
thev were eonspirinj^ to set up worse tyrants than those tiicy were 
throwing down, till the deed was done beyond recall. 

It almost seems as if, in the revolving cycle of liuman aflhirs, 
the same trick were about to l»e ngnin played by the same rfst- 
Icsa schemers u[khi tlir same arciimplire-ilupes. The Bln-nte- 
narv is not to Im? a mere i:<immeiiit>raUon : it is nut to be; simply 
a Disscntin(r Saints' Day, or an adoration in Chinese fashion of 
theOreal Ancestors: it is distinctly announced as the commenec- 
ment of a great pnlittcal agitation. A solid clmraetrr is tti lx> 
piven ti> thf sentimental coiiliMnplatioii of tlie dead by tin* 
mnroction of ineajiures which sh:dl extract from it subgtantial 
profit for the living. And imieed ^vithout some such ulterior 
object it would be verv iliflicult for the modern Dissenters to 
carry out the projected demonstration witli any <ieeeiit zenl. The 
varirius sects win* an* to etirnbiue in this celebration ajjrce ullh 
«ich other iii very few things; but thev agree with the ejected 
of lf)()3 in fewer still. 'Hie chief movers in this project are tlie 
Inde|)eudents, whose prominent principle is abhorrence of a State 
Church, The ejected of 16ti2 M-ere ministers of a State Church, 
hnd been so for many years, and ceased to W so, not because they 
were tn)ub!ed with qiialnis about Kmstiunism, but because the 
State Church, having icgainetl its freedom, lost nn time in ridding 
itself of those who biul conspired with its oppressors. U must 
be a verv distinct view of immediate political advantage that can 
induce the Independents to celebrate tho memory of men by 
whom tlicir own special and essential tenet would have I»een east 
out as heresv. Such a sacrifice of convictions fur tlie soke of a 
powerful alliance bodes an immediate and vigorous prosecution 
of the war. 

The very point which the Congregational Union have desig- 
nated as the subject-matter of the agitation which this Iticentenary 
U to inaugurate, leaves us in no doubt that ihey are following in 
Uie footsteps of their falJiers, and iMirrowing again the tactics 
which answerMl so well tiro centuries ago. It is clear tliat the 
moderate Dissenters are asain to enjoy the honour of pulling the 
chesnuts out of the fire. That ' act of spiritual wickedm-ss,* die 
Art of Unifonnitv, is to be the object of ntt.nek. liidepeDdeiits 
are enjiiiiied to urge upon mankind, fntm tlie pulpit and the 

pint form. 



platform, tho * iaunoralitT ' of suhscriptioa. Pram the more 
moderate Nonconformists this language is well enough. It 
wouUl Ije intclligilile in the mnutlia of Presbyterians, or Me- 
thodists; but what docs it inonn in Uic mouths of Intlependents ? 
What liavc they to do ^fitb the Act nf Uniformity or titc 
immorality of teats? Tho tests which this Act cstabli&lied wc 
conditions under which endowments were to be held, ami th 
privileges of serving a ycito Church were to be tonferreiL 
'I'liose whom these tests rxeludc Imvc a jicrfcet right to ciy nir 
ng&inut tlieui ; but hoiv do they coiu^cni the ludcjH-mli'nts, whci 
would not hold eitdowmeiits ujion nny conditions whatever, an 
to whom the privileges of a Slate Church arc au accursed thing fj 
What hare they to do witb an agitation against the Act of U 
furinity, which excludes them from nothing that tlicy could undc 
niiv winceivnble circumstimccs t-njoy ? Ami what motive ra 
it be that urKCs tbem to place themselves at the head of a muv< 
moat for its repeal ? 

The question is not rcr^' hard to answer. Their motive ii 
precisely that which weighed with the Imlepcndents at the tlm 
of tho great Rebellion. Tliey have no more real syn^nilhy witli th» 
Wcsh'Yaos or tbe Presbyterians than Croniwetl and llorrUon had 
with the IVesbyterians of their day. They have no reul ubjoctina 
to the Act of Uniformity, fur the ^tate of things which precml 
it is as i>dious to them as the state of thinf;s which followed iV 
But tlicy need allios. They arc too ficw and too unpopular t 
fight alone. Their views are too repulsive to the moss of English* 
men ti^ give them a chiuice of success until the public miinl lias 
bei-ii prc|>aied bv prelimiimrv measures of subversioo of a milder 
ami less st.irtlttig kin<L 

Mr. Miall and his friends of tho Liberation Society have been 
recently convinced of the unpopularity of their schemes by a 
rude ami unceremonious metlxKl of persuasion. Both he mxI 
Mr. Bright liavecommitleil thf error, capital iu revolutionists, of 
loo great frankness. It is very seldom llmt the established state 
of things is so weak tliat it can be carried by storm at the first 
Attack: it must be reached by slow and gradual approaches; its 

(irinciiml defences must be laboriously mined ; its garrison must 
K> denioraljiutl by the concessions of treacherous or faint- hearted ^J 
friends. 'I1ie professors of extreme opinions, whn always in tha^f 
end profit by revulutluns, only damage their own chances by np> 
pearing too early on the scene. There is always a danger that 
th" premnturp jiublication of their ultimate aspirations may lerrifjr^B 
the parliwins of the i-stablishcd stale of things, and rouse thom to^^ 
Ml nliBtinati? n-sislntice. It is always better to let tlie moderate 
party do their work. They will destroy the assailed institution 



quite 

d 



The Bietrntenttrij. 

quite Bs cOcctively, tliougU they may take a loDgnr time in lining 
it; njid dicv will meet M'ith a much loss resolute resistance There 
uu«t always bo Giroudins tu jiavc thr wny fur Jacobins ; there 
must alway* bo Pn;sbyterians tu open the dour fur hi(k*|>cndcuts ; 
there must always be seotimeutol Liberals to sniouth the way for 
hard-beadi'il priictical RaUicals. Mr. ^^ialI and Mr. Bright have 
made the same sort of iiusUike as Dunton wouM have tominittetl 
if he had demamlcd the erection uf the revolutionary tribunal in 
'the year 1789. 'I'bcy hare startled tlie world by a candid and 
^feithful delineation of the abyss down which they wore iuvitin;; 
Us tu dcAcend, before we had well accomplished the preliminary 
jMages. Anil in the cage of the Church of Eiit^land their randour 
been peculiarly ill-advised. The Churirh uf England is too 
laxsivp a fortress, her bulwarks are prrounde<l too deeply in the 
[Affections of the nation, \a> be carriwi by storm at a sinj^lc blow, 
for arc the affections of the people in this case her only dct'ence. 
The parlieutai mejisures, advocated by her antagonists for the pur- 
pose of destroying her, outrage a set of fee]in«;s moreBenaitlvc and 
more widely spread than any ecclesiastical alle^riance. ProjiTts uf 
l|K>Iintiona)ann other classes besides the friends uf the Church ; for 
landed proprietors have an instinctive aversion to seeing* landed 
pmpertv violently ln»nsterre<l. Proposals for annihilating one of 
the estates of the realm have an intcrc-st which is something more 
than ecclesiastical. Many very indevout politicians would look 
with consternation at an attempt to make so large a hole in tile 
foundations of the ancient edifice of the Constitution. The result 
is, that tlie tactics of the Liberation Society up to this time have 
eminently failed. They did not want lor many elements of surcfss. 
Their orgnniiiation was perfect, and the funds placed nt their 
command furnislied at least a pledj^ of their sincerity and nr^ueil 
a Xf^l .-tmountinf; to fanaticism. But tliough the presiture which 
lliey have broujiht to l)ear on Pnrlinment has lieen considerable, 
[.their jHtlitical success has not proved proportionate to the outl.iy 
^either of money or of labour. Up to this lime tlie investment has 
been a failure. Tlie apparent pTosi>crity whicJi smiliHl npon 
them for a rmisidi'rable number of years has been suddenlv 
blif;hte<l by an unlookeit-for chaufre of fortune. Their fn*nuent 
triumphs and jn-owinp power in Parltainnit had deluded ihein 
into the belief that tlieir victories were due to their own i*al pre- 
ponderance in the country, when in truth lliey were onlv snatched 
from the indnlcnce of llii-ir opjmnents. But when the Church at 
Inst was induced lo rouse herself, the delusion disapneaied. Lord 
Melbourne used to saj', in his reckless way, • it takes a great deal to 
move the Charch of Knf^land, but, when alie is once moved, the 
devil himself cannot stop her.' 'I'he last two or thrw years have 

signally 



sifrnalJy verified tlic accuracy of this description : nt least Mr. 
Miall «m! Ills friends Imve mrt lieeii able tn stop her. All the 
visions itf spidiutiim n.nil conftscatiun, upoti wliirli fura luii^ time 
post they liad hccti rcj^alini; their imaginations, have nddenly 
vani^hcil; and even the small mor*cl of cburch-ratei, with which 
tiiev wore hoping to lake ofl" the hungrv edge of their appetite, 
has heen simtchnl from their vnry niuuths. Il has henn no littlp 
pnK>f of thr r<>n), thou^;h too ofttni tlonnaiit, jtouer of thn Chint-h, 
tliat she has huen abh* to roui^H'! tht? Ht>use of Commons to con- 
demn as unjust by a majority of seventeen that which three years 
before the same body of men had sanctioned by a majority of 
seventy. 

It must have been abundantly riear for some time past, cvon 
to tlie ininilti of Ures prarticnl strat4^g:i&ts than Mr. Miall, tliat his 
tai-ttcs hati broken down. The vital delect of them was a want 
of power. They would have been suitable rnouj^h if he liad been 
manwuvring' at the head of a really furtnidablv force. But he 
had nt-'ver at-tually cuninianded more than a very insignifiautt 
portion of the cnnstitucntit!!! ; and though by abumianec of noite 
and rapidity of movement, ami a clever use of the close balancv of 
j>arti», he had given them tlie appearance of ten times their 
mimbcr, it was impossible but that such a deception should be 
unmask(>fl at last. If, indeed, the Church were to relax from the 
exertions she has taken so tardily, it is not inijiossible that the 
fortune of the war might change again. A Member of Parliament 
is an admirable tlvnamonietei'. He nteasures with exact precision 
tlie amount of pressure to the square inch exerted upon him by 
the opposing parties in hJs constituency. At one time the 
Churcmniui slumber:^ while the more wakeful Dissenter presses 
witli his whole force ; and the Member, with responsive libe- 
rality, professes that, while he is an attached, though unwortliy, 
member of the K&ublished Church, he feels diat the moment 
for concession lias amved. At :uio(hcr time the Churchman Is 
half awalce, anil the pressure is toleniblv e<|ual ; an<l accordingly 
the Member g<ics to the Chester nires on the day of the iHvIsioni 
or is afllicti-d wiOi an opportune influenza. When at lost, with 
much difliculty, the Churchman is fully roused, and tho 
pressure begins to correspond to the real relative power of 
the two jiarties, then the Member comes to the conclusion, with 
regret, nnil with r%-riy desire to pmmote religious ttbertv, tlmt 
the limit of coiu-ess'ion has been rear1ie<), and that the eiicroaeli- 
merit of Dissenters must be resist^Ml, If tliis liiis nut bemi 
always the tone of t lie uiajority of the House of Commutis, it is 
simply the Churchmen thcraselvei who are to blame. As long* 
as they maintain the energetic attitude which has prfiduretl so 

marked 



I 



The Bkrttlmarif. 



257 



marked on cfTect on the division list, ko tonf; all direct attacks 
ngninst Chnrch property will fail. 'l"hey will merely serve to 
disrrcMlit and to weaken the party from whom they come. 

Mr. Miall 1111(1 tlip other anlr men wliii dirert tlie movemrnts 
uf tlie Lilirratiiin jsirtv ni>jwar not In he insensilile tn tin* vast 
(liHteullit^ wliifli Imvi* sudilcnly surrimndrU their onrc prosptT- 
ous undertaking^, 'llie direct attack must be postponed imle- 
finitcly till Churchmen shall be lulled rilf into apatliy again ; an 
Kvent which is not likely to take pta<-e till a (generation has f^iiwn 
lip tliat is i}»iM>rant of the eviili-iieeof I)r, I'ltster and Mr. Siunucl 
Morley. The lime is i-onie for a new system i>f lartics. 'ITje 
enterprise cannot succeed if it is left in tlif hands of those alone 
who object to established Churches altogether. The atoick- 
in(j for*'e must lie strength em!<l by nllies n^cruited from some 
other ([uarter. Tlierc an? malcontents in pk-nty to be found who 
arc httttile enough to the; Cliurch, but whose ln«titity does not 
eitend to a dislike uf Church oslubtishmonts altogether. IS'um- 
bers of the sects who have multiplied outside the pale of the 
Kstnblished Church arc dirided Irom her either by some ]»int of 
inridcnl"! or secondary importancv. It is either some small 
point of ecclesiastical discipline, or a general dislike of restraint 
on the part i>f tlieir original founders ; or iheir schism was caused 
in the first instanco by the a|)achy u llh which the zeal of tliusc 
founders Mas originally encountered, ami has since maintained 
itself by the strength of its own momentum. They have no more 
dislike to ilie principle of an Establishraent than a poor iiinn dis- 
likes the principlf of property. The only wish they entertain 
upon liie subject is that a portion of the property should belong to 
them. To a certain extent these sects have given their assistance 
in the agitation against the church-rate because tJtai is a kind of 
property which, by the unfortunate arrangements of the exist- 
ing law, seems to take the form of a personal contribution from 
ihcmsL'lves. Rut farther than this they cannot be induced to gu. 
Tlicy will not join in aiiv movement so revolutioitary as one that 
seeks to pour into the coflers of the State the revenues which the 
Established Church now draws from tithes and land. Vet their 
aid must 1k' had, if any success is Xn be iirhitnrfd. Accordingly 
a new line of attnrk appears In havi- bron skclcheil out, ill 
which thev may he. induced to Ijear a part. Hlw pun-ly destruc- 
tive enterprise is put aside for tlio present. It ts not professcflly 
renounced, far less abandoned ; but, for the present, till better 
days shall dawn, it is not to be ostentatiously avoweil or vigor- 
ously pushed. And those citamptons who have had the goiMl 
fortune not to enmmil themselves to it an- hciievfortli to use ]an- 
^agf> of studied modRralion. Thej ore lo profess an incxhaust- 

Vol. 112.— iVy. 2t3. 8 ibie 



I 



S58 



Tlir BiceiUraanf. 



ibic tenderness for Church property, and a religious itfjard ft 
the sanctity "f tithes. The alarmiag wfttchwonii of tlic Libera- 
tion S<jcicty are not to cross their lips. In their stcail ihey are 
be furnished wit]i a totally tlifltTciit pattern of cry, properly fitt 
up with hran-new sentiments and faets. In pursuance of Oicnmr 
policy, it would even scvm tliat a change of rommandcrs has 
taken place. For the coming campaign generahi have been 
Bppointnl who are likely to command the confidence of the ncwlvH 
joined allies. It is ncedlcsa to say that Dr. Foster will give dH 
more evidence. Mr. Miall and ' the noi»y political agitators 
an? puhliely disclaimed by iufluenlial Dissenters.* Ulr. Miall 
himself even tries to escape hy ejcplanationsofa far-fetcheil charac- 
ter from the too candid phrases of his * Nonconformist Sketch- 
book.' In the campaign which this bicentenary celebration is lo 
commence, it is evident, from the speeches that have been nlrewly 
delivered, that the wvajwns employed will l>e of a synijwtJielic 
and sentimental character. Mr. Bright, with his unmanageable 
rockets, which only put lus own side to rout, is to be sent igQO- 
ininiously to the rear. To iivoid exasperating debates, operations 
are to bi! conducted in the House of Lords, where the burly Cleon 
of the Liberation Society will be unable to assist the Church with 
one of his invaluable invot:tive8. In his place the Dissenting 
cause is to be represented by the mild onitory of Lord Ebu ry, , 
whose meek helplessness under Uie fire of his episcopal adversarjjnBj 
wit is more likely to exriti- pity than defiance The object oH 
the attack is no longer to be the uniou of Church and State, but 
^ly the Act of Uniformity : * Comprehension,' not ' Cooiiscatioa^ 
*" to be the cry. ^| 

It is impossible to deny ibc wisdom and the setf-rcstraint wii^^ 
whieh the new policy of the LilKTiiliuoists has hern selecleil. 
|Thcy have renounced all idea of using the approaching festiv 
for the open propagation of their own |>eculiar views. They 
willing to leave their own pet schemes to be worked out by 
indirect though certain operation of the movement into whi 
they are hurrying their guileless allies. For a time the 
Content lo follow, in unler that they may one day lead. 1 hey 
are satisfied lo join in the clamour for concessions wliich are not 
ipparently incompatible with the idea of an Established Church, 
tnowiog that from such concessions its ruin must surely a 
swiftly follow. In the mean time the cry of * Comprehension * 
everything that an agitator can desire. It possesses all t' 

annlities of a good, useful, scr^-iccable cry. It docs not stnkc 
lat terror into the hearts of secular proprietors which is excited 



Tfw liicetticjiaty. 



S59 



hy any Mnt of spotiation. It can ix- carrifid oal witlioui opcm 
violation of the riglits ot" propt-rtv. And to Dinnv mcji, who do 
not look beneath the surface, it has a vcr}' captivutiafi; suimd. 
ScpaiBtion, isolation, exclusion, are nercr pleasant wottls tn a 
(JLristian car. There are no earnest men of anT party but lou|^ 
IW the daj when thr ^unhappy divisions,' against which we 
annually jmiy, and which pamlyze so ranch of the strencrth of 
Christianity, sUnll be healed up. iThcre is no diffcrcnco of 
upinion as to the soreness of the disease; but it is far more 
cLiflicult to agree upon the cause from which it arises and thttii 
remedy that is to cure it. Those who inquire of history for a| 
reply, and have noted how thece dirisions date from tlie first] 
dawn of tlic existence of onr rcUj^ion, how they hare hardened 
with its growth and multiplied with ita extension, will be slow 
to believe that an Act of Parliament has caused them, or that an 
Act of Parliament con be their cure. A dc<'per origin and a 
more inveterate character mu&t Ik* assigned to a disease which 
has clung to Christianity in every land and evert' a|?e where it 
has been submitted to ^c action of the speculations and t&e 
passions of men. But the Libenttion Society are quite right in 
their calculation that numbers of men will take a more super>l 
ficial and a more sanguine view. There are many kindly and| 
gentle natuies who cannot bear to believe that such a malady is 
iacnrable, and prefer to impute the existence of divisions to the 
formtUas of doctrine which arc the subjects oi controrenj. 
IKssent, they think, would not exist, if the dng^mas which arc] 
dissented from were swept owsy ■ nonconform ity would cease, if 
the tests which ascertain it were ahttlisheel. They do not pro- 
pose to themselves, much less to their brotlior Churchmen, lliat 
all dogmas 5h.ill be alK>lishMl, and all tests relaxed, so as tu 
include every species of Dissenter within the nominal unity of 
the reconstructed Church. Most of them, probably, would 
admit, if hard pressed, that nnivemi conformity wuitld be dearly 

Eurchased by the abandonment of all dogma of every kiniLj 
Int they are willin<? to carrv out upon a small scale tlir pruc 
which they shrink from pushing to its ultimate extent. 'Hierl 
will not sell all their dogma to buy any amount of conformity;' 
but they will sell a little dogma to buy a little conformitv. 
Tliey onlv wish to relax the test jnsl a little-, bo as to include 
within its limits »t>ine sectaries who are lying close upoa the 
bonier. But whfti ihev have arrumplished that relaxation, they 
hare no wish to go further. They will entirtain no project for] 
including the sects a little further on, who will then be iWng 
ch»se upon the border, lliey are fully resolved to deleud the 
new test just ns vigorously as we are now defending the old. 

s 2 Whetlvet 




Wliutlitrr tlioy will be able to do so, or whether their own present 
efforts may not herenlter lumish a formidable vantage-ground to 
the C'omprchensionists of a future day, are questions with wliich 
(hey do not ilistrrss thnnselvc-s. It is sufficient ftir tlio present 
tlial tbey ilcsirr to tlirow opm tlie rtnulunients of die Church lu 
their own fnvourite ufts of Dissenters. An<i accordinply, with 
Li)nl Kbury at their beail and Mr. Miall ia their rear, all tlie 
Oissentera and a number of quasi Cliurchmen are arraying them- 
selves against the Act of Uniformity, which is the main obstacle 
to the partirulnr eom pmbrnMoii whieh lliey desire. It has nut 
occurrciJ Uj tbi-*in to inquire what is the motive to which they 
owe the fiuspiL-ious assistancL- of the Iiide|)en(b*at8, or why tim 
Congregational Union have organized a ' Bicentciiary ' to bolster 
up their agitation. That astute IkkIv of men do not usually 
waste tlieir powder in idle expressions of sympathy. That they 
tu whom a National Chureh is odious t-an gain nothing by 
opening its portals wider, needs no proof. They eannol ex(»ect 
any direct advantage from the ri'[)eal of the Act of Uniformity. 
If must, tliea, l>e an indirect advanUige that they expect. It is 
possible that they look a little furtlxer than Lord Ebury docs. 
Perhaps they do not believe in tlie moderate and limitotl Compre- 
hension upon which he confidently <y>unts. They have probably 
rxamined with care llie extent of the changes wluch, willingly or 
unwillingly, Lord Ebury, if victorious, will achieve, and the 
effect whieh those changes will have upon the stability of the 
National Church, As the result of the cx«mination has licen a 
determination to give Lord Ebury their unqualified support — in 
fact to do his agitation for him — it may be worth while to follow 
them for n short distance upon that gromid. 

If Lord Ebury had lived two hundred years ago, and had been 
more successful in converting the Bishops of that day than he is 
witli the Uishops of this, it is possible that he might have 
effecteit llir comprehension he desires with only a m<jderate 
amount of harm to the Church. There is no doubt that political 
rt>n$idcrations weighed (|uite as strongly as those connectifd with 
religion in i)r(iu-ril>ing the ti^sts tliat were adopt^l at ilmt time. 
In 1662 it was necessary to prevent the Church endowments 
from IwJng used to fe«l an insurrectionary propaganda ; and iit 
1690 it was necp-ssary to save her from the hands of a <-li(|iin of 
]Millti('al adventurfTS who wished to make her an instrument for 
Kccuring thL*ir own ascendcnev. If only religious considerations 
had been in qucsti<m, it is proliable that a point would liave 
Iwcn stretched in include some of the more moderate Noncom- 
forraists. Whether such a measure would have l>een for evil or 
lur gootl, the test might have been fixe«l ut the |ioint whii^h Luid 

Ebury 



i 

I 

I 



TTu Bicenlenary. 



261 



Elmrv (lesirps, without much danger of its Wiiij; sul»<^u(!iiily 
tniivtil. Religious divisions were much more sharnlv uiurknl 
then, ami the theological area coverml I)y each religious si^l wiis 
much more easily ascertained. Dissent was confined nithiii 
com|i«ratively iiamm- limits. Tlu- dispulants were not so nu- 
merous, nor the subjects of dispute so various. The main body 
of eontroversinlista did not differ either concerning tlie funda- 
mental doctrines of ChrisliiUiity, or concerning the aulhurttv of 
those Apostolic preachers to whose teaching all controversies 
were by common consent referable. That strange distinction 
between 'historical Christianity* and non-htstorical Christianity 
had not then arisen. There were Deists, but they did not pre- 
tend to be Christians ; and to the majority of them religion of 
any kind was strange. If changes had been made, therefore, it 
was easy to measure the ejctent to which those cltanges were U* 
go. So long as the demands of the Calvioiats were accorded, 
there would have been few other claimants of importance left 
to satisfy. We are now living in very different times. Erratic 
nnd unquiet intellects do not now concern therosi'lves with 
the use of the Cross in baptism, nr the ring in marriage, or 
the posture of communicants at the altar. Tlie questions over 
which the abler minds of our age arc battling take a far 
wider range, and go far deeper to the foundations of our 
faitli. The differences of opinion among those who call tlieni- 
aelves by the name of Christ in these times are not those that 
could I>e satisfied by the omission of a rubric, or the modi- 
lication of an occasional service. VVc have but just emerge<l 
from a fierce controversy ; but it has not been upon details of 
posture or of expression. We have had ecclesiastical trials umm 
disputed dogmas, and rcdesiastical censures upon heretics, nut 
the points in issue have Iii-en of ver)' iliffrn-nl iinporUuice fmm 
those which Laiut dealt with before the High Commission, or 
those on which the ejectetJ of 1G62 refused to cont'urnj. Lord 
Ebtiry seems to have liastily assuinwl that, because tlic Prayer- 
book was the stumbling-block (hen, it must also be the 
stumbling-liliK-k now. It is a remarkable illustration of the 
anachronism of his pniposals, that while he is asking Parliament 
to relieve the clergy from the intolerable burden of assenting to 
the Prayer-book, all the recent duclriunl truils have nmtnlv .'inscn 
out of alleged (►fTi-nces against the Articles. He has to deal with 
iL condition of Uie intelleiluat world utu-rly dilfercnt from that 
which prevailetl when schemes of comprehension were mooted 
two centuries ago. Men who claim the title of Clu'istians, anti 
■who have every right to it so far as purity of intention and holi- 
ness of life can confer it, arc scnitinixing, witli oo partial or 

tender 



26? 



The liicmteitnrtf. 



tender hnnd, the cardinal iloctrincs of our t'aitfa, iind the ftiumla- 

I tioiu upon which the Fatth itself rcnoses ; nnd their ipertilntinnt 

arc cncouragwl ralhrr tlinn n'strnined b_v tlir tpmjMT nf thr 

gpn^rntion in wlnrli tlipv livi', Kxtensivr dislM'Itcf ujhiii pciints 

nf vital mniitml, at Ix-st a vngiif*iu*ss niitl suspension of conrtc- 

tinn, i» nt tUr jm-scnt time the pruvailiiii* tone of mind ainonf^ 

too many of the most thouplitful and the inoit moral of onr 

edui-atc<l classes. Intellectunlly spending', wo lire in oiu> of 

i'thnw; porioils of anarchy which are ihe cimsonurnc*? and Uie 

[sure punishment of n imtIimI <»f civil war. Contmvrrsy has 

■ ragetl anum^' ua till the habit of submission and the raparitv 
.for cohesion have disappeared. Upon the good or llie evil of 

diis state of thin{<;s it is not here our province to cnlar|re. Hot 
it is n fact which, in iliscu«sinjt; a legislative intcrferriicw with 
the existing fe«la of ortliodox v, it is impossible to ignore. 

Rut l-ord Eburv, and the Ili<-entenarions who back him, niav 

[Kis«ibly reply, ' VVhai it all this to us ? We have no intention 

of comprehending these freethinkers. Too many are compre- 

|hcndcd already for our taste. It is only the orthodox Diss-^nters 

■whom we desire to admit.' It is perfectly true that Lord Lbury't 

■ latest prD|H>ailion affects a very limited boily of men. It docs not 
propose to abolish the Prayer-book, or to relieve Oie Clergv from 
the obligation of using it. That proposition was nev€*r submittal 
tt» discussion. He only proposes to release them from the necessitr 
of declaring their assent to it Consequently he will only relieve 
that very remarkable class whose consciences forbid them to 
pmftss their assent to Ihe doctrines contained in the Prayer-liook, 
but whose consciences do not forbid them lo proclaim those doc- 
trines as facts in an address to Almighty God. For tlie (Tcdit 
of human nature, wr are willing to believe that the nunibc-r 
whom his proposal would admit into the Church is very small 
indeed: but the question is not who will W admitted by his 
proposnls ; but whom will he be able to cxclnde, when once Ihe 
question of readjusting the Church-tests is opened. What 
ground has he for tlte idea that those who are aggne\Ttl by the 
Articles will be silent, when those who nre aggrieved by the 
Prayer-book are being relieved? Or how will the Parliament 
thai has yielded to the one class protect ilscif, with nnv pretence 
of fairnc?ss, from the importunities of the other? There is a 
motley throng of religionists crowding outside the door of the 
Church, anxious to force their way in, in order to divide the 
tmtsture which is stored inside. As long as the door is kept shut, 
they cannot teach even the smallest objects of plunder.^ ^They 
have ma<le the effort recently, with at first some prospect of suc- 
cess, and have been in the end bitterly disappointed. Bat Lord 

Eburv 



1 



}>£ieeRUMtiy. 



2G3 



Eburj has two or three frlcDils amon|r tho throng outside whom 
he is very atuiout to let in : and, therefore, he begf to be allowed 
to Qp*m the door just o very Utile. But he is extremely eager to 
conviaco tlit' stern {guardians of the door timt it is only to Ih> 
opeuotl just ajar, ruiil that the very muineiit his friemls Imvo 
I slipped in, it Khali be securely closed again. The only question 
is wliethcr tlie Socinians, and other stalwart sectaries nehind, 
who do not enjoy tlir advantage of Lord Ebury's friendship, will 
allow him to smuggle in his own friends, and then patiently st;intl 
perfectly stiU whiJo he slams the dor)r back in their faces. Lord 
I £bury, whose simplicity is as confiding as lus charity is amiable, 
' helieves that they will. \VV, who have the misfortune to take n 
' gloomier ricw of mankind, have, on the contmr)*, an uneasy sus- 
picion Uiat they will not. 

As his Dicentenartan friends have apparently porsuaded hwrl 
Kbury that this enterprise is practicable, let us Iook for a moment 
at the conditions it rei|uires. Refi»n> he can persuade Parliament 
to accept a scheme of comprehension, which is to divide the 
Dissenters into two bixiies, of whom one shall be tiken and the 
other left, he must cither point out to it some sharp nntnral lino 
of division betwci'u the two, upon which they can take their stand 
in order to resist further change : or else he must persuade them that 
[^those whom he 6nally excludes are too feeble to bo troublrsiime, 
and too meek to avail themselves of the precedent which he is 
creating for them. The Ixst alu'niativc may clearly be put aside 
at once. The freethinkers whom he would exclpde are strong in 
ability, in the inilucnco tliey hnve gained with a certain section 
of the educated classes, and in the fact that, as a school, ihey are 

{oung and have the promise of the future before them. The 
Fuitarians, with whom on such a question they would act, also 
possess a strength arising from social position and ability out of 
^aLl proportion u> their numbers. Tliey would never moot such a 
, question of themselves : without assistance they would be 
powerless to force tlie defences of the Church of England. Tlie 
Church as she exists is a very difficult thing for them to disturb. 
The jjresent tests — from the power of tradition, from the force ctf 
habit, from the testimony of two centuries' experience to their 
.vise adaptation to the ]»oopIe for whom they were framed, from 
f the association aiKl veneration that have grown up aroumi thrm, 
juul from the great men who have devoted themselves to her 
defence — have a strength whicli, (hey well know, would lie 
wanting to any new test So long as the existing formularies 
standing by the right of a long prescription are lefl untouched, 
Ltbey may be content to acquiesce, 'iliey may not care to light 
up on agitation which will only clear the ground for the* Pm* 

tcstant 



S04^^^^r ^^ Bicadenary. 

testant Dissenters. But if the (luestion is hiiXy upeticd for (lit* 
cuMion, it is impossitilp to Ik-Iipvp tlial tlie^- would be stIonL 
Thev woulil be more nr less tluin men, if, wlien llie ^t»* is »>j»en, 
I aitd tli(! oUirrs nrr pressing in for n f^(*neral scnunbli', they should 
TnfusR ia rulKiw aiid cnjuy tlicir sliare. 

We may safely assume that, when once altcmUnn has begun, 
Lonl Eburv will not be suffered in ]>eact' to fix it precisely at 
that spcrini point wbicli he, in his wisduni, has selected iis the 
limit r>r ritnl Chrislinuitv. If onlv fur tlieir honour's sake, the 
swts nhoin he cxrludes will not l»e ftjitisfiecl to allow the di»^^ce 
of not being Christians to be braniled upon thorn formally by a 
new derision of Parliament. He may be quite sure that, if he 
succeeds in paring down the Prayer-book, tlie Artich* will not 
be left ntonc. As soon as the Ha)>tist. under bis protettion, hiu 
begtu) filing- down tlie Baptinma] wrvitres, and the Prrsbyttrian 
is working; at tlie Ordinal, and all XunconfovmisLs lombineil 
are engaged in taking the edge nlT the Communion seiTicc, 
others equally bent upon destruction will ruslt upon the Kormu- 
Inries wliich they hold in especial horror. The Unitarian will 
aim a blow at the Article which afhrnis the Trinity, and tltn 
Article which affirms the Nicene and Athanasinn n■«^e<is: the 
Universallst will attack tlie Article which limits salvation to the 
followers of Christ; the Germanize! will tail upon the Artirlp 
which recognises tlie anihority of Scripture. The question then 
arises, How will Lord Ebury and (lie party of comprehension 
deal with these ynwrlc<nne allies? Wilt they be able to suggest 
to Parliament anv principle upon which one set of Oissentftr* 
can be comprehended, and the other set of Dissenters can be 
proscribed ? All schemes for altering the Formularies are violent 
acts of power, which must have some solid intelligible principle 
to rest on. The only principle applicable to the present day is 
the the<)ry (hat the national Church should Iw coextensive with 
the national belief. If comprehension is once b^^n, nn dis- 
tinction can bo set up, no lioundarv can be tnicnfl, by which any 
section of religionists can justly be roarkeil off from the rest, 
and denlrtl the licneBtg to which odiers arc admitted. Kven if 
sueh a line of demarcation were Justin principle, it cimld not be 
drawn in practice. We have not a few sharjtly defiiied sects \u 
deal with. T*he area of thought which we arc asked to dividf* 
by a new test into orthotiox and heterodox is a vast controversial 
zone, stretching from the very verge of Komanism on one side 
to the very verge of Atheism on the other, and coveretl by innu- 
merable grndatioiis of opinion fading into each otlier bv indis- 
tinguishable Khades. If Parliunient wen- a council of Jnmiiesc 
Siiges, untouched by the controversial ]KUisions of the \\ est, it 

could 




The Bicentenary. 



265 



roold nut Uy its finger uiion tlie point wlicre Chrialinnity cmls, 
and Infidolity I)r<^ins. But consisting as it docs of a body af 
men intensely iiitcrestmt in the issues on which these questions 
torn, and deeply tinged with the inevitable partisiinship of a 
controversinl strug^k', rtotliin); short of n rcvulutjun couSd force 
it into uprt-cinfr upon a new test. 

• Even if a new te<it werr possible, it would not he Corapreheu- 
non, It might transfer th(! Church property into new hunds, as 
was done by the Puritan measures of 1643; but it would not 
brinif with it comprehension in any sense, because it would expel 
as nmny Churchmen of the old pattern as it would manufuctun- 
of th)' new. LonI Ebury is obstinately blind to the fact that, in 
the eyes of a great number oi persons, the cimi prehension of 
error implies the abandonment of truth. There are theologians — 
though Lord Kbur^' may not credit the fact. — who think that some 
jwsitivc statement is indispensable in a profession of belief, and 
who would distinctly decline to belong to a confession that con- 
fessetl nothinjr. VW are not advancins; a doctrine — we arc simply 
sj»eaking to a fact, of which Lord Kbury may convince himself 
liy procuring an invitation to nny Kuridecanat meeting in the 
countri-. He will find that there are men Jn considerablenumbers 
who would deem it r betrayal of Cliristian truth to be joined to 
a communion in which the Truth is treated ns an open question. 
If he neeils pixxif, he will find it in the indignation which has 
lieen excited among the clergy by the Burials Hill, and which 
has forced Sir Morton Feto ignominiously to withdraw it. Tb« 
Bill was a proposal that, under certain limitations, the chuich- 
yard should be opened, not only, as lieretofore, to the rolnistTs- 
tions of the Church, but also to those of every sect of Oissenters. 
From the rhur('h>-ard to the rhurrh is of rcnirse hut a step ; and 
no principle cinild lie devised tluit should admit Disscntent to 
the one and yet exclude them fmm the other. The Bill did not 
upon our churches to the common use of all Dissenters in terms ; 
but it did so in prinriple. It would have beeti impossible^ after 
the Bill had once passed, to resist further change. It was, in 
fad, a pni]Misal of Comprehension on n grand scale. In this 
light the <lergy read it ; and the result shows how any jtroposaJs 
of Comprehension would be welcomed by them. It would in no 
way have intcrfcR-d witli their ministmtioiis. It would have 
bound them to no new statement of belief, and to no new eccle- 
siastical obligation. It would only have admilled ]>racticany 
that other doctrines conflicting with theirs might iiossibly be as 
tme :l8 theirs. To the keen comprehension i St this * only* may 
seem a small matter. But it has not seemed so to them. The 
feeling which was produced among ihc dcrgy through the lengtli 

and 



I 



366 



77m JJuxnteuajy. 



and brmdtb of the land the moment that this fnir-tpoken BUI 
tuued from the Select Coinmittee excovdeil, both in rapidity and 
intensity, ati^'thiii^ that this generation has yet witnessed. Their 
alarm uptm the subject of church-rates has Iwen a mere lethai^ 
compared U> tlie indignation evoked by this foretaste uf Cuoipr^ 
hcnsini). It is a long tliv since the Idberal members connected 
H-iib counties or rumL boroughs haTO passed such an evil time of 
it The petitions that have been sent up^ in an astonislungly 
brief s|>ace of time, from all parts of f^n^lawt, will form a, 
profitable subject of meditation for those who think that a 
relaxation of tests would meet with that ready nrtpiiescenre 
whieb is indispensable fur its success as a measure of Compre- 
hension. It is of course open to Lord tCbury and the Liberals 
of every degree to vituiK'ratc this condition of mind to their 
hearts* content; but wlien tliey liave fully relieved tiieir feeling* 
upim tlie subject, tbe fact tliat it exists will still confront them. 
If their object be, as tliev profess, not to transfer the endowmenta 
of the Church of Kngland from one set of owners to another, but 
simplv to enlarge her borders, so as to include a larger body uf 
believers, this stale of feeling, which they appear wholly to 
ignore, must necpssarily frustrate their endeavours. Their 
measures of immprehension are necessarily measures of exclusion 
also. As fa«t as their relaxation of the formularies attracts new 
members of ihe Church on one side, the denial of the faith 
which that relaxation is supposed to involve will drive the old 
memlK-rs out of it Rt tlie other side. Their task is the task of 
the 13Annid('S. Tbe stream which will How out under their 
bands at one end will fully equal the stream they are labouring 
to pour in at the other. 

We may safely assume, therefore, that the construction of a 
new test is an impossibility. A Formula CaneordirB is always 
a perplexing instrument to construct. Even when it is only 
meant to eover a narrow and well-defined area, the dltficulty at 
finding tlimlogiral language which sliall eliminate that which 
is dtmdly hemsy in tbe eyes of one party, and yet s]iare tlxat 
which is vital truth in tlie eyes of the other, is well nigh insupet> 
able. But in tlie case of sects which differ both from her and 
fntm each other so widely as Uiosc with wliom tbe Church of 
Kiiglnnd is now enntenrling, the task is an impossibility in 
h'rms. A ni-w trst that should include only a fraction of the 
sects would l>if ri'sistrd by those M-hom it would exclude ; and 
one that should include a considerable proportion of them would 
be impossible, for tbe simple reason tltat the presence of each 
nihor would be mutually intolerable to alL It is possible to 
abide by the present tests, which recent experience has laoght lu 



I 

S 



A 



I 



The JJifimtmarj/. 

go at least aa far in thr nay of comprehension as it is possible ^ 
to go ; but no change can be mncle in them wliich shall stop 
short of their entire abotition. ^M 

It is to this, if the Comprehonsionists succeed, that we inusfc*^^ 
ineviL-ibty come. There are those who prufess to see in surh 
a result a triumph for pure religion. They imagine tLal the 
necessity of afireeinp upon some common belief is the chief 
hindrance to the growth of true Christianity, and that men would 
struggle more heartily to prapagnte the G«»prl if every one 
entertained itnil pn)f(«53ed a nifferent ronreptjon of what it mRnnt. 
We are not incline*! to assent ti> the prnpositinn that faith thrives 
liest where preaching is most ronflirttne". We ahontd rather 
point to the cases of America and Geneva, where the experiment 
lia» been extensively tried, as tencl)ing^ a very different lesson. 
Faith has ever gn>wn more negative, and love lins e\'er grown' 
moM' r«>ld, in prnjwrtinn as divisinns have multiplied. But this 
riuestion is l>esiile our immediate purpose. We are at present 
roncemwi to inquire, how the position of the (-hurch as an 
Establishment would be aRected bv the alxjlition of tests, or by 
a relaxation of them which will be tantamount to abolition, and 
ineritnbly lead tn it. Its first efTei't must be to eliminate all 
spirtludl religion from the bmlv which has been subjecteti to ihc 
process. No Ixxly uf religious men ever were or irvi-r will Im 
maintjiinwl in the condition which the Established Church would 
present after such a chnnge. To art as part of an elnlxirate reli- 
gions organization, without the sliglitest guarantee that those wIk> 
lead you, «ir those who are working at your side, hove one siogliT ^_ 
aim, wish, or belief in common with you, would l>e a condition of ^M 
sustained li^']»crisy in which no really pious or earnest spirit could 
exist, 'I'he first effect of such a change would be to drive off all 
the nobler spirits in tlie Church to join some religious orcTinizn- 
tion in which they r(nild nt least be rerlnin that they would not 
be countenancing by their co-ttperation the projjagation of that 
which ihey count as deadly heresv. That a large secession 
would immediatelv follow upon any latitudinarian relaxation of 
tests, no one who knows anything of the clergy could entertain a 
doubt. Hut what will linp[>en to the eajnit mortuvm they will 
leave behind? What will become of the medley of religionists 
who will remain in unfastidious complacency b> enjoy the good 
things which thetr mure scrupulous brethren have nbaiHlonnl? 
Will the people throng affectionately to the fabrics which hare _ 
become a common honso of call to twenty different sects ? — or ^| 
my much reven-nce to llie pulpits from which twenty different 
Ivospels are preached? And what will be tlie political strength 
of a body of men whom no common aims, no common faith, no 

common. 



£68 



Ute Bicentenary, 



common astociationft bind tog:etber? \V']inl support will the 
laity accord to an orfiranizatioii wliich exists, not for the purpnse 
of prracliinff a dtTinitc faith, but merely for the pur^MJse nf rc- 
oeivinjr revenues? 

There can lie no ([uestion that Mr, Miall's policy is far-«ghted 
and wise. Such .in agitation as that which this Blrentenary 
inaufrurafs, and Lord Ebury consents to head, will do his work 
go thunjughly ttiat even Dr. Foster and Mr. Samuel Morley will 
not be able to sjwil it. When once tlic Act of Uniformity is 
gone, his enemy, Uie Established Cliurch, will be an easy pray. 
lie will have little need tu org.'uiize an agitation when the 
brotherh(KKl which makes her now so strong shall have Iwcome 
a r<)|>c of sand. No virulent denunciations will be required to 
persuade the nation into contempt of a State miicliine, constructed, 
not to proclaim to men the one faith once deli%'ercd to the saints, 
but only to fulAl a function of police by inculcating^, upin the 
liosis of a score of conflicting Gospels, the virtues which poli- 
ticians value. No Liberation Society will be needed to free tu 
from such a curse ns that. Wlicn matters have come to that 
pass, we shall ourselves gladiv join with Mr. Miall in demanding 
the alfolition of a ('«>ntrivance so admirably adapted for ciuench- 
ing all faith, and chilling all religion nut of tlie souls of men. 

It is imlispensable for their security that Churchmen should 
learn to recognise the dtange that lias come over the battle they 
must fight. Durinfr the last tliirty or forty years tlie struggle 
has beet! a simple one. The existence or the privileges of the 
I'jstalilislicd Church were the subject matter of contest, and her 
frieiHU and her enemies were tlie comtKitantt on each side. In 
each battle that she losl^ she was compelled to renounce some 
advantage that she had possessed before ; and nothing less than 
her existence was the stakcof the war in which she was rngaged. 
She was figliting for dear life with iiiexomble foes, With them 
it was a wiu- to the knife; they denounced her .is *n great aristo- 
cratic iinpttstun- — :i disgusting pn-trncr — a, falsehood cloaked in 
truth — a life-tlestroying U{)as.' * They ])ainted her as ' destroying 
mure souls than she saved.' t They asked whether men bad 
'cvpt tiondered on the practical meaning of that word — a State 
Church? Have they never looked into the dark, polluted, inner 
chamber of which it is the door? Have tlirv never caught a 
glimpse of the lojithsomi- things that live and cra%vl and gender 
e ? ' J And their jwHcy was as unsparing as their language. 
They aimed avowedly at simple exterminatioa They stiu- 



• 'XoMonfonniiirg .*^kctct) Book/ pp. 16, M. 

t 'Briiisb Chiircli«a in reUlioD tu (be BrilUh P«opl»,' p. 350. 

J * Nonconfunniil'fl Sketch Rook,' p, 16. 



« 



4 



I 



moniil 



The ffic^ntetiari/. 



2(iii 



inttned — they still Butnmon — ronitd thoir stamlanl scnikr auxili- 
Bri*"*, tempting' tlipm liy tlip rich spi)il tlir f'liiirfh nf Knsrland 
nfTcTS ; hut it is ni>t tlint tliev may sliarc the |ihiiMlL>r. Their 
principles forbiil thom tii di'sin; any '>r it l'«ir their own !kmIv. 
j'hry it« not seek to prnw (m upon her ruin, Imt only to brinf; 
her down to n level with themselves. They offer her property 
bt the Static — t*i the E<hirationists — ^to the LnniHorcU — tt» any 
nnr, in fnii, who M'ill niil thrni to n-n-neh it mit tif their givat 
rival's huiiil. Vvry ilifTcrcnt Is the policy of the new ant:i;;iini.<sts 
with whom she is confronted ihiw. TIk- other section of .\oii- 
cunlormists, who now ap]>eiLr to be o{>cninf^ their trenches against 
her jwsitiun, are no ways disposed to so thriftless and prodiKtit n 
jtolicy, Tlicy do not wish to give up to indiscriminate pillage 
tt land (lowing with milk and honey. Thev are too anxious Ut 
jKirtiike of the vintage to dfsire ti) open the vinijyard to the 
trampling hoof of the secular wild lx*ar. They are well content 
that a certain amount of property should be set apart to secure 
tlie due |K*rfonnanec* nl GtKrs WOTship. They are very willing 
to Hci|uieftcc in Uie existing state of things with a very slight 
modification. They have no conscientious objections to an 
I^tablishment. The only change they woold suggest is, that 
they sltould be the Kstttblifthment themselves. Their object is 
not to tlestroy, but simply to transfer. Consequently, tliougfa 
they arc obliged to act with him, they look on Mr. Miall simply 
an a niarploL His violi-ut opinions may M-reek tlie cause of 
Kstablislunents allogedier before the gratifying change they con- 
template can be eflectetl. Thev are compcltetl to accept his aid, 
hecn.use they wish to frighten the Church into concession ; bet they 
would deplore his success as hcortily as any. Their sptx-ches arc 
full of pmfessions of good-will to tlie Established Cliureii ; and if 
they taunt her ocensionally, it is not Ix-cauw she is an EstablishrrI 
Church, but only because she is * bigoted and exclusive.' In fact, 
they arc decidedly tender to her; tliough it resembles more 
closely a lover's tenderness towards a we-ilthy heiress, or an 
epicure's tenderness towards his dinner, than any other fimn of 
that emotion. Whatever its genuine meaning, it is much plea- 
santer to deal with thim the fulminations of Mr. Miall, if only 
for Its superifir jMiliteness and good taste. But their antagonism, 
whether lliey mean it or not, is not tlie less real, and not the less 
deadly. On the ctmtrary, they arc in truth far the most dan- 
gerous assailants of tlie two. One attacks only the temporal 
riccidents, the other the spiritual essence of her ilianu'tcr. Mr. 
^tiaIl, if lie were successful, W4inld destroy our n-ligifins rom- 
munity as an l'>stahli.shment : l^>rd Khury would, though he 
means it not, inevitably tlestnty it as a Cfaurcli. Mr. Miall would 

lake 



270 7%« Bwmtenary. 

take from the Chnrch of England the sinews of the spiritual war 
Lord Ebuiy would stifle within her the very life on which her powers 
depend, if she were stripped of all her wealth, she still would 
preach the Gospel that has been committed to her, though within 
narrower limits and with feebler powers. But when she has 
been deprived <^ that definite faith, by and for which she lives, 
there will be disseminated in her name merely a mass of con- 
flicting dogmas, breathing into the soul the ineradicable doubt 
whether Truth exists at all. This is the new peril which this 
new agitation against the Act of Uniformity opens to our view ; 
and all that we have hitherto stniggled to avert dwindles into 
insignificance by its side. 



Art. 




( T E livre que le Iccteur a «ou» Ics yeux ea ce moment, c'est" 



4 



{Kun Ixmt u I'autrc, dans son ensemble ct dans ses dctaiU, 
quelles que soient ios iritcruiitteiiLxs, Ics exceptions ou lea dcfail- 
lnncc», la niaretie du mal an bien, dc Tinjuste au juste, da fai 
an vniy de la nuit au juur, de I'appctit a la conscience, de 
pouirilure k la vie, de la bestialitc au devoir, de I'eni'er au ciel 
du ncant ji Dieu. Puint de depart : la matierc;— point d'arriveej 
rame. L'hydre an commencement, I'ange a la fin.*" Sucli are 
the words in wliirh M. Victor Hugo incidentally sets forth thu 
pitli and i^ist of tiic ten volumes Ix-fore uh. Stninge words, 
indeed, to come from the pen of a Frtmch novelist uniler the 
Second Empire; and all tlie more strange because, we are thank- 
ful to say, they convey m> vain boast. They are in the mai^H 
true. It was observed bv I-'tdy Mary VVoitley \ftmtagii, that tl^| 
make the monils of her contemponirles squari; with the enaL-t- 
ments of the Divine law, the printers of the 13ook of Commoik 
I'raycr ought in future ti> omit all tlu; nf>ts in the Decalo;fUf. 
like manner it might be said, that if at each clause of the passaj 
quoted above you were to insert a uot — or, in other words, 
you were to read the passage backwards — yon would not in tli< 
slig:htcst degree overstate the 'marche' whicJi French fiction has 
taken during the last ten years. Proud as the TliinI Naiiolea^ 
may be of die masterly manner in which his Parisian edilily (o 
the French newspapers t(;rm it) have ruled out the rapital !l 
streets as straight (ami we might add, as stiff and unpicturesqui' 
as the lines in a schoolboy's copybook; bright as may be 
lustre which he believes himself to have thrown over France 
thp less pracefid triumphs nf Magenta and Sidferino with whJcli 
he has saddled the gmtiluile uf Italy ; it will be a grave (unissio^H 
on the jKtrt of his histoiuui if he omit to notice that while b^| 
emiiellished the streets of Paris with marble and mortar, his era 
enervated the minds of il^ inhabitauts wiUi a HtcnUure as Tdtliy. 
as frivolous, and as falsi- as ever supjicd the morals uf a natlu 
or made the fortune uf a publisher. Such works as * Madam 



lOlk 

I 



\o\.\\'2,—No,224. 



* Vol. \x. r. aw. 

T 



B( 



Bovary,' as ' Fann}/ ' Daniel' et Compagnie, rearliing as they 
liavc <lonc, some of them, a l)onJi (ide twcntipth cilitiua, jumI 
(Ir.ig^ging' in their trail the (h'tjiiU i»f a mMlical troiitiw* on the 
neniius tliseasrs of women, iKiiMmrd by the iia&tJDess of a pm- 
riont mind and set out with all the artifice of a shuwv jH-n, ore 
not so much outrages on decency as si^s of the timt-s amid 
whicli tlipy crawled out nf the dunghill — their uuthurs brains— 
tx> bask tht'iruM-'lvrs in the sunny ctiilaye of the Rue Vivienne or 
of the Kuf> dc la Pais, of a Levy ur an AniToL Shut out from 
all the inestimable benefits which jKtUtical life confers, taught 
to believe meaowhilc tliat in order to have the full use of liberty- 
ihey must leaiu not to abuse it — which sounds like telling a man 
tbat t4i get the use of his liiubs he must never stir but in a Bath 
chair — Frenchmen hare allowed tlicmsclves to seek el&evhere for 
some substitute for that healthy excitement and play of mind 
which they can no longer fiud in the field of {Ktlttics: we might 
!idd, which they no longer seek. Drowned in tlie Ijeastly sinks 
of sensuality, zealous for nothing unlets it \ye coU' a fa Houne., 
the mind of France is only n.>scued frnm that imtat fatal disease, 
|ioIitical apathy, by the vigorous etforts of tltosc faithful few, the 
B^ov)(oi in the rnoe after everjthing which constitutrs the lughcr 
life of man, who, from tlie Avcntinc of a tligiiifted Secession, 
jimtest against the retgn of a coarse inateriali$ni, and sustain, ia 
all their forre and beauty, the traditions of tmo of tlic noblest 
bodies of Utcratute that ever weddt^^ h>ft^ tlioughts to words that 
burn.* 

Considered, tlien, with reference to the works nf fiction wltich 
have caused the greatest *fureur' in France during the last teu 
years, this new novel of Victor IIu<;o's, cont-eived us it is in the 
spirit which its author jusiIy vindicates for it in the words w4iich 

* Frau the siricturca is wh'ujli wf hsre hem indulged aa the light lilenuare of 
Pmacc. it would bi- »n onpspdonaXile omiisiou not to f x«pt the chsnaiBg llttK- works 
of M- J. T. (1« St. ti«riiuiia — a pMudonym of o ttery tmiHpveat clianwtrr ii snjr 
oD« wtio bai ever ttiKJ hvtota Ua vjcs llie IxKiks on which it fipiras. A vrilcr ia th» 
•BtttunJay Review" (Sept. iifl,_ !»«■/>, ia ipeaking of the ilifficolty which Frsod) 
wTiNm teen to experieocv ' in writing wuh success ou the >ido of virtue,' sad tt 
the (^ilJlity of that ■peeics of waniitig which i» Ixuvd on the exaaiple of niwnialiMi 
a»d tnonttraoB foJIv, rigfailv iul<Ii., Dial ■ thi- hi-M device of the iostroctivv ooveliit 
it lo sketch an idedl, In kindle or fwtcr the better fttlJucs of reader* by io« 
spiria^ noiiou* of Mincthing parer, nohtn-, and better tlaii themselvrs.* Aneb is 
ibe ufa}eot which U. J. T. de St. Genaain has nropoud to himself in the* I^Egtnda 
pour une Kpi&gle,' in '^ligiiou,' la 'Lady Clare,' mud in ' Four Furveaii.'ftc. 
Vol that the roortUty ii offcMivcly uhtnided: it sHk'h twtnnilly oiu nf the 
incidents n-lntt-d— it ia put forth, not pot on. To iho*^ who hnv* ^xporieneed Ae 
difficulty of inLt-iiog with l>ouks auwug the ciimmt works ol' Fivticb tictioD wbidi 
ittsy aucly Iw Ic/l JmiU, awd are ni adapted vinjinilMu purvu^utf aa for lUe ripar 
tasieof anorcadrsneediige, it amy be nucfnl 10 he farolthed with the titles of 
tilt shore worln. whieh Id Prance at lesit have net with a. mcens, Ini uoiay 
iadeed, but loarcely leu aabttaBtial, thaa that of their impure rivals. 

ve 



4 
I 



L«* Mh^Tohia. 



fl7» 



wc have placed at ihe head of tliis artirlr, is a moat welcome and 
nolcwortliy exception. Occasional crossness of expicssinn iu-> 
dcTit too frequently escapes him, but there is Dothing thjkt 
bewrays impurity of thought. The genius of the poet aiwl the 
miiul of the man have both of them been of too high on onler to 
«tDt)p to such lewdness, consciously and lovinti^ly cnressed, a» 
•eems to allure the readers and to absorb the miiuls of a Flaubert 
and a Feydeau. To what purpose, indeed, is Poesy a ' winged 
thing/ as Plato calls it, if it do ucit raise it»elf above the dirt 
and dust oF the earth earthy, and become n *sursuin cordik* tc» 
the world? 

Hitherto we have allowed M. Victor Hugo to give his owaj 
Tcrshin of the general tendencies of ' Les Mis^BABLES,' and thim 
with the view of jKiinting out in limtJtfi the exceptional pisitina 
which he so honourably holds in the Kn-iK-h litfrnturt* of the day. 
Wn must now, however, look more closely into llu^ mutter, and 
furnish the reader with such details as mav give him a more 
accurate idea of tlie scope of the work, the nature of tbc stor^-, 
ami the merits of the style. 

Fir>tl, theu, as to the material bulk and formal division of 
•Les Miserable*/ It consists of ten volumra, divided into five 
parts of two volumes each. These five parts bear succcisively 
and respectivelv the following de»iguations : — 1. Fastine ;' 
IL Cowktte; Ul. MAHiirs; IV'. L'iuym.e Ri e Plumut et 
L*fepop£B Kl'k St. Denib; V. Jban Vaueax. Kach ' part* again 
is divide<l into ei<;lit or mure '■ bo<iks,' aud each ' btiok ' into 
chapters, ami to the chapters are affixed headings, selected -ippa- , 
rentiv for the purpose of giving the n-ader the sraalleitt p*>S-'(iblo^ 
idea of iho nature of the t-nntenls. The far-letL-hed nmci-iuii 
whifli M. Hugo here imlulges lietray lui amount of afTeclatiui^j 
scari-cly comintiblc with good taste. The 4000 pages, in roi 
numbers, of which the ten volumes (UtusacIs e<)ition^ consist^ 
would make about 131X* pages of the same type as the *Quart(*rly 
Review/ 

It is not, we believe, very gcnorotly known that ' Les Mis 
rabies ' is the work of two writers — the one a poet, the other a 
ivstem-monger ; the one richly endowed with feeling* of the 
highest order, which come to him as naturally as instincts (and 
herein i* he a poet): the other sentcntiuusly parading the rrudest 
notions, the profiiict of no thought^ the result of no expcrienre, as 
the very foiimhitiou!! of Law aud Order, as the oidy conditions 
jm wliich the happiness of a nation can be secured, aD<l tlic 
tory over Sin and Misery completed. T\ic one great on tho 

lallcst theme— the gambf>ls of an infant ; the ulhia' small on 
the greatest theme — ihc relation of the Individual to the Slate, 

T 2 ^Vk^ 



274 LaMiahmUa. 



mI 'ill iiiMliliiw iif ilii ffTii^miBi riiri TUs fitensj pnt- 
■ER^ip kas heeM iMiilaiiiii mT aD Ae MJKfcirf «Uck »^ l > br 
g xpw Ii M l frsHi Ar eDdaboEttisa of two waidi cf ■• ofpaaiit a 
c^vacter. k is wiC a^ Aat «c ve 'wilili>i to k &r tihr 
■ActMB of aesiiT oae AoosaBd pages of di^ma^ wilk vUck 
wt caaU wefl Wyv ^f »|^ ■— I, bat tfaeac iij^ii wiiMi wax Ae 
■■a ci g j * br iiiiia|iliiij^ tbe k«) u ct> oI* fbe rtofr, vbiek Acj do 
■wbiae to drrdope. snd crgmbMg to Rtud. Sv gicat, iadgfd, 
Mtfe i^aiT vkicb tbeaocaJ aod political qvack baBCkae to bis 
oiOoi^wp tbe port, dot bjdt cdtics bave Ina tlnm^ it vosld 
•eaHi,«tf Aeaeeot; bsTc facn omfale toresoito tbat ibicad of tbr 
■Corr wbicb tbcse iirtnBumble epuodkal cbsts aie rm break- 
mt- avd bare dus denied to Victor Haso the poet Aat aitisdc 
dkin of whicb Victor Hngo tbr f|s>ck faas dooe 9q mark to Husk 
die ^tmnAaa aad to niar tbe eflect. It -wSX be our endeaToor la 
tbe MA0mia^ remarks to elijninale as far as anr be tbe dxnstroos 
results vbicb bare enmed from tbis mdDvanl coUaboiatiaa of 
two nneqnal wits lodged imdcr one cianiiim. We dnll auke it 
*mf borioess, br a searching analjsis of tbe two fint ndmnes (for 
it is in tbem tbat the kernel of tbe imt is to be found i, to nnqiheie 
Ae ^nrit vbicb bas presided otct tbe coocepticm of tbe entire 
work. We sball tbns be enaUed to disentangle tbe idea, wliicb, 
in spite of all nnseemiT obstructions, does, in fact, knit togetber 
die diflerent ports of * Les ^liserables,* and so to rindicate that 
artistic power to which ^'ictor Hago's critics baxe done sacb 
scanty justice. This more searching- analysis completed, we 
sfaall fiAUfW it np br a hastr summair of the sequel <^ tbe storr. 
soflicient to bring oat the * contmsus partium ' of which we shall 
preri/itulT have fnnushed the key. We shall then ofler some 
remarks on other portioas of the work which seem to call for 
flp«rial cpnsare or special praise, as the case may be. 

^Ve think it will be seen on tbe whole that, amid all its defects, 
this Wfrrk has something more than the besnties of an exquisite 
■tylfr, and the * word-compelling ' power of a litenrr Zens, to. 
recommfrnrJ it to the tender care of a distant posteritr : that in 
dealing with all the emotions, passions, doubte, fear^ which go 
to make op oar common humanity, M, Victor Hago has stamped 
upon every page the hall-mark of genins, and the lo\~insr patience 
and conscientious labonr of a true artist. We sit here as utterlv 
dispassionate judges. Unlike his own countrymen, we have no 
personal pique against the author, no old scores to pay ofT, no 
literary coterie to serve, no political principles to denounce, no 
bngbear of socialism to defy. We approach M. Victor Hugo, 
indeed, with all the tenderness which is due to an exile, and with 
all the respect which is due to a man of genius — Solcm quis. 

dicere 



Zcjr MitendtUs. 



975 



tlinrrc falsum — hut Ijeyoml that, it 18 needless to assure M. Victor 
Hugv> that wo have no purpOHO tii sen*e hut that of saying with 
all frankness what we think n{ this im|>ortnnt addition to a 
literatun^ of wliich we are ever anxious to hail the glory, anil to 
deplore the ih'cav. 

llie work o)){>ns with a lii^hly-fintslied portrait of a Christian 
bishop. Nothing seems so much to have exns|HTate(l M. Hugo's 
hostile critics as his audacity in attenipliit^such a portrait. The 
so-called religious party seem to consider he is poachiniEr ud their 
preserves, and we doubt not would iiifiiiilely have preferred that 
ne should have pointed the finiJ^er uf scorn ttoth at Bishops 
ami at Christianity. The [Hrrtrait, we may remark, is generally 
believed to be more or less Irom the life, and to refer to 
Monseig^neur Miollis.* He resides in the episcopal town — but 
not in the episcojinl palace, which he has given up as a haspitnl, 
making tlieuld hospital hts palace — with his sister. Mademoiselle 
Bzptistinc, and his old servant^ Madame Ma^lotre. Mademoi- 
selle Baptistinc is thus beautifully described in language which 
it is iiujKJssible lo translate: — 

'KUc i-tait tiQc perfioiuit) longno, p£le, mince, douce ; ello Tcalisoit 
rid('-al de co qn'crpriino lo mot " respectablo ;" car il somble qn'il soil 
ndccasaire qu'mio fenuuo Boit mi'-ro punr etni TvUL-ruble. GUe n'avait 
juiuui He jolio ; toiito sa Tie, qai n avait 6ti> qu'mto saite do saintes 
ffiOTTOB, avail iini par mettro mir elle uue aorU d*i blauoheor si de 
ciaTti: ; et, en vieUimant, die avalt gtigni ce gu'on poHrrait ofpder la 
beauU de ia bonU. Ce qui arait etu de la maigreur dans 8a jvonesao 
^itait dovunu, dims sa matarite, do la trunsparonco ; et cette diaphaneiU* 
laisKait voir I'ango. C'Otait uno I'lme plus encore que oe n T-tait nnu 
ricrgc. ^ pcrsonne semblait faiio d'ombrc ; s peine osaez do corps 

Sour qu'il y eut U uu scxc ; uu p«u du matiLre conterutut uno Incur : 
u gntndff yeiix toi^oura baiss^ : un pr<!-tcxto pour qu'tmu Aiuu rcste 
sur hi tcrro,*— (i. p. 11.) 

The words we have placed in italics remind us of what it 
undoubtedly true, that ohl age, so it be found in the way uf 
righteousness, gives to the features a beauty not their own. If 
*he motions of the mind be goo<l, the lines of the face will but 
become mure and more lieautiful as time wears, and as the uiore 
sensuous beauty wanes. 

The life and coarenation of the good Bishop — whom the 



* Cbsrics Praa^U Melcbior Bicnrvna Itlipllis, fonnerly BUhop of Dicne. in 
ProTCTBcc. This prelstc wnt born at Aix in tliv ^ear I7&3, sn^l wiw Dixie Uiihcp 
of Digiie in iso^i, sn oBoe which he tdornrd witli linplc, nncwii^tutiuuk virtuM 
till ttiu itifiriuitivs of age Bade him resisa in 1838, five years l>«fi>rr his daih. 
His rrtcnds and ndminTs hsTv not been mow to protvit agmiul tlio lii«ton«al Bub- 
ftrstnm irK\t\t th^ mithor of * Ijcc MWrablrs ^ would hare bis readers suppose 
ooderlies the porlrail of the Bubop of th« story. 

people 




276 Let MuhaUa. 

people cslled Monseigneor Bienrcnn, cfaoodng' fnim ln> noBie- 
rons Chrudan names *(xlu qni leor preHnbut on aens* — mre 
described at great length by M. Hnga The notion that Ae por- 
tnit is in part 6om the li£^ seems to be w ar tanted br these 
words (p. 25) : — * Nous ne pretendoos pas que le portrait qae 
nous biaoDM id sent TraisemUable : noos no«i boraon s k dire 
qn'il est ressemUant* It is not without a pw pose that these 
details and ti^t* of characto' arc given widi such (nhiesa. They 
prepare ns for the crownii^ act of what we sbonld call Chiistiaa 
lornig-kindness, if we had not some scruples abo«t (mdos &anda, 
which forms the taming^point in the career, and eflects die 
convenion — and what is coorersion bet a taming ? — of tbe real 
hero of the novel, the coDTict Jean Valjean. Some of die 
Bishop's mctM are worth quoting. A popnlar pveacfaer in a 
iharity sermon had drawn a picture so awful of die tonnents uf 
hdl, and so glowing of die bliss of Paradise, that a stingr old 
miser, who had made a mint of money in busiiiess and had never 
faeen known to give a larthing in alms, from that dav forward 
gave a sou every Sunday to the poor at tbe door of the Cathedral. 
* Uu jour I'eveque le vit faisant sa charite, ct dit a sa sceur avec 
on sonrire : Voila Monsieur Gebtnaud qui achete pour nn son de 
paradis.' Or take the following retort to an equally stii^y old 
Marquis whom the Bidiop dunned for alms : — * f Mcmsiemr fte 
Marquis, il iaut que vons roe donniez quelqne chose." Le Mar- 
quis se retoama et r^pondit sechement — *' Monseigneur, j'ai 
mes pauvres," " Donnez-Ies moi," dit Teveque ' (p. 37). 
Equally happy is the following : — A poor woman was arrested 
for issuing false coin, of which the man she lived with was 
suspected to be the foi^r. Nothing would make the woman 
confess ; so the Procurenr du Roi hit upon the device of laving 
before die woman some fragments of letters, not less foiged than 
the coin, which professed to show that she had a rival. In a. 
frenzy of jealousy she denounced her lover. ' L'eveque ccoutait tout 
cela en silence. Quand ce fut tini il demanda : " Ou jugera-t-cm 
cet bomme et cette femme?" — "A la cour d'assises." II re- 
prit: — " Et ou jugera-t-on Monsieur le Procnreur du Roi?"' 
(p. 42.) Iliis anecdote is immediately followed by one of a man 
condemned to death, which seems on the face of it to be very 
absurd. But we can understand why M. Victor Hugo has forced 
it into his narrative. We all know that punishment by death is 
a practice to which the author of die ' Dernier Jour d'un Con- 
damne ' entertains the most rooted aversifMi. On the propriety 
of this aversion we offer no opinion. We can only say with 
Alphonse Karr — * Du moment que MessieoTs les assassins veul«Qt 
bien commencer.' Be this as it may, the cure is represented as 

saying. 



saving, when sammonpd tn the side of the prison pallrt^ that it ts 
m afmir of his, nnd the liis>hnp as n>jiitning, — ' " Mnnsieur le 
CUr6 a raison. Cc u'est pas sa place, c*e«t la miennp." ' Now 
fvery reader of common sense aud fcclini^ roust be awnre, that 
for any minister of any irlipon in the woild to have mftde such 
an answer M that, is an itnprnbnhilily so irmss, that if it ever liad 
happened! in fart^ it shimhl have brH>ii kept nut of thr jta^r-s of 
fiction. Uut uur autlmr had no other wav of introducinff an i 
ekHjueat di-nuuciation of tiie puilloline : — 'Ce spectre (]ui semhlc ^M 
rivre d'une e&piK-c de vie epouvantable I'aitc de toute la ^^ 
mort qu'il a donmie' Tp. 47). Wc canuot refrnin fn>m quotinii: 
one njorc of the n-partres of MunsL-ipieur Bienvcnn. lie had h 
been c-anie»tly but vaiuly urf^d uot to visit one of the sinaUest of ^M 
his parishes, situated among: tl»e mo-.mlains, which at tliat time were ~ 
infected by banditti who Imd i-ubl»d a neig^hbourintr cathcHiral. 
The Rishop |>crsisted in goin;^ on his ntule with no escort but an 
urchin to act os "juidc. Onoe there, he desired the cure to jfi%'e 
notice tliat a pontifical moss would be celebratiHl. Hut what was 
to be done for epi!ico[>al ve-Stmentu ? ' '*lla]i!" said tlie Iti&hop; 
"ccla s'aiTaojTcra." ' Meanwhile a trunk was left at the //rr#- 
bjfth'C by tno unknown hor^^'men, which was found to contain all 
the vestments stoh'U fntni the cnlhedml, nnd a ptccf of jiaper 
witli lliese wonls: — ' Crartitte a Monxeiffiirur Hiernvnu,' Cravaite 
boinf^ the name of the captain of the bimdilti. lliereujMm the 
Bishop remarked, '"A qui se eontcnte d'un surplis <lc cure, 
Dion mvoic une chape <i'arrbnvtN:]uc.'* — *• Miinw-iyni^nr,"' mur- 
muru le cure en htK-hant la tett- nvec un sourin*, " Dieu — oti le 



et 



repnt 



Bvec 



diablr V '' LVvriiue ri'ganla 6xement le cure 
auloiili^ — " Dieu. ' ' — p. 71*. 

\V"e pass on to Chapter X., which contains one of Hk- pramlest 
■ccnes in die whole work. It descril>es an interview between tbe 
Ilishop nnd n dying Convent ionnel, who had all but voted tbe 
death of the King; a iiuasi-regricide in short Our liuiits will 
not admit of our dwelling^ on this triumph of dramatic jxiwer, 
which, after all, is only a Lors-d'ccuvrc, but we may mejiiiou one 
or two ol the in<i8t striking [toints in the dialot;tte. The Conven- 
tionnp] liad contendeil that to kill Louis XVII. fiir Iiping- the 
f^jit-grandson of Louis XV. was not a hit more unjust than to 
kill young Cartouche solely because he was brother of the robbv 
of that name. ' *' Monsieur," dit Tcveque, *'je n'aime pas res rap- 
prochcmpnts de noms," ' The dvinp man replit-s, ' *' ('ailoucJie ? 
Louis XV'. ? jK>ur Inpiiil des di*ui reclamez-vous?" ' (p. llti.) 
The ilishop mutters sumetlung about '1*3. Tlie Convent it tnocl 
drew himself up as far as his stiffening limln would allow htm to 
do w>, and exclaimed, ' '* Ah! vous y voila, '^3. J'attendnis ce 

iiuit-Iii. 



* 



d 



mot-Ik. Un nua^ s*(*t fonnc pendant qainxe cents am. Av 
boat de quiaze siecles, il a rreve, Vuus fattrs le procn an 
coop de tnnnerre." * Th*- llUhup n-tums to ihe ciiar^ : — ' " Qor 
pmSfTZ-vaus tlr Marat batUut d» mains a la ^illotine?'** Bot 
die n-tort is not alow. " ' Que penscz-rous de Bossoet cbaatent 
le 7> Deian nir Jcs dni^nnadcs ? ** ' Tlu* BUbop, detennioKt oo 
the one liand lo recognisse wbatcvcr of good etistrd in the 
world, and furj^ct tlic evil, and, uu the otiier, awed iutu chaiitjr 
tn till; near advent uf the olil Conrcntionnel's deatL, could ddC 
refrain from answering tbc question * Qu'cst cc que roas renes 
me dcmaDder?' with the words * Votrc bcne<)ictioci.' Tbc fact, 
however, of his having held any intercourse at all with ooe 0!" 
the sons of BcUn), gave rise to some obloqnv in the little roteries 
of tlie place. But the Bisliop was armed at all points. * Un jour 
one douairiere dc la vari'^U impertinente tjai se croit spirihteile^ lai 
adrena cctte saillie — " Monsei^eur, on deroandc quand Votw 
Grandeur aura lclK>naet rouge." — -"Oh! oh! voila unegroaaecoo- 
leur," rcpondit I'eveque. *' Hcureusement que ccux qui la mepri* 
sent danK un bonnet la vi:ntiret)t dans un chapeau" ' (p, 130). A 
chapter on the political opinions of the Bishop — more Koralist 
than IinptTialist, more Ultramoiitiuie than Gallican- — is followed 
bv one 011 his 'solitude,* which gives rise to some sarcastic, ami 
withal humorous, remarks on tlie pushiii^;, srlifiiiinK clergy, wba 
buaz about the palace of a worldly, iulluentiul Bishop, 
latter — * Sachant prier sans doute, mats sachant aussl soUiciter 
has always at liis back, and oftencr at bis feel, a herd of bustliofr, 
fawning salellii<-s, who would fniii ke<']> pacr M'lth the Sun of the 
system, and be lifted along with him into the high places of the 
earth. * Plus grand ditKcse nu patron, plus grosse cure au 
favor!.' Home, too, crowns the vista. ' I>c la Grandeur h 
rEmiDcnce il n'y a qu'un pas, ct cntrc I'EmiiicDce ct la Sainiete 
il n'y a que la fume'e d'un scrulin. Toutc calotte peut rever Ib 
tiarc,' No nuch cntiiuragc as this, however, (locked round the 
humble dwelling of the unaspiring Monseigncur Birnvenu. * l'a» 
une ambition en herbc ne faisajt la folic de vcrdir a son umhre,' 
The whole <il this most humorous jxissage is wound up bf the 
following eliMjuerit nnathtrina un Success, whii-h we quote in full. 
It is only by such (juotatious, full or partial, a jiage or a phrase, 
that we can enable the reader to form any idea of the wonderful 
mastery of language, and vigour of style, which are to be found 
in the pages of * Les Mis<iniblcs,' as in everything wliich V'ictor 
Hugo has writlea All French writers uf mark arc divisible 
into two schools: the one is characterized by the polish and 
BmiM>thness to which the Komance element is carried in a Hacine, 
more modem times, a Lamarttnc : the other is full of the 

rie 



wnu 

limr.^ 




X«>« Mit^&les, 



279 



vicl esprit Gaulou, a Molifer*? ur n La Fontaine, For ilih rugged 
force of speech, all knots, the bark stilf on, M. Hugo is very 
retnarkablD. The terseness with which he throws into a word 
the cuinpressed power which a feebler but more clrgnnl writer 
■would draw out into a w1m)Ic sentence, indieates an niiiount of 
genius wliich belongs onlj* to the kingUcr spirits of an agp, and 
which in French literature has only been matched by Kahclais; 
in Italian by Dante. The great epoch which Boileau's famous 
*' Enfin Malherbc ^'iiit * was intemlcil to hcmld in, derived its 
importance from the fact that Malherbe went into the hi^^hways 
am) byways of the people, and revived the old * esprit (iaulnis,' 
which had been almost stifled beneath the ponderou* roller with 
which Ronsard smoothed the trim lawn of tlic French language. 
MalhiTlje dug lo the r*Hits ; went buck to the familiar words of 
the people, and the fresh-turned earth bore fruit a humlrr-dfulfl in 
some of the choicest works of the great writiTS of France. We 
shall be panloncfl this diprssion, for it will help the reader to 
understand the position which Victor Hugo, with Michelet by 
Ills side, occupies in the literature of France. We now proc-ecd 
with our (|Uotatii)n. The verv wonls of our atitlior, whose force 
oar own translation can but faintly convey, will be found below.* 

' Success, wo may suy m piuwing, is a hideous aiViiir tiuough. IVTen 
are taken in by its spiu-ions resembluice to merit. In Ihn eyea nf tho 
mtiltitudo, to get on hae much the same profiU as to ho ftbaolotcly the 

* '&)it dit en pDfisant, c'est une chose sews htdeusc qii« Ic succ^ Sa fiiaue 
resseiubliiaoe vtee \e iiu-Hte tromi>c lea hommes. Pour In foulc, la T^urite a 
prcsQue U iDume^rolU ouc la supTvmxti«, L« tuecii. «« M^«chin« da Udent, a 
un«uu|te: rhi&loLiv. Jiivt.-iiiil ol Tacitv sculsm bofujoaavnt. Do dos joiirs, noa 
philosophic It pea pr^s officiell« m cninf« eo dontnudtj cbei Itii, poric la ItTn<e 
«1« sii«ce«, «t fail 1« Mrvice dv Mn »ii(i-c>uuubr«. R^oSiitses: Uieoric. Proqxfritc 
sofpoM cspacitii. Gsgiim k U. Kxerie, tuus vuiA ua babilfl bamiie. Qui triooiphe 
est vm^rc. Nai»i-a roifli^I lout csl lit. Ayt-x ilc la chanoe, voas aaraz le natei 
vyjtt hraroux, on toiu croirs Rfaod. Ea dehors dcs cinq oq riz cxceptloiu Im- 
mnaea qni font Teclat dun bu'c1i% I'adiuiratiou conteioponaiM a'cst picrv aut 
mjropie. Oorure est or, Ktre Ik premier rrau, cela aa |{Ale rieii, puur\ii qu oo 
MHt le inrvfnn. Ix^ vulgaire est ua vi>;iix Nardno qui a'adore lui-mi'iii<: et 
^ui upplaudii le vul^ire. Cetta fkcnltc (.-DoriDc, par laqnttl« on e»t Motse, 
Bschylr. l>aatc, MkhcI-ADgc, on Napolean, la multitadv lad^cerue d'eiubl<^ct 
par aodanutioD k <^uicoDqu« alteint son but daas quoi qa« ce aoit. Qu'un notatre 
tt Uansfigun ea dvpui^, qu'un fanx Comcille fiusc Tu-ii/tti; qu'un cuuuqui- par- 
vienoa k poac&lw un liurvtn, qu'uD Prudbommc militaifv gagn« par accident la 
hUtilU drasiTa d'ajif L-potjne, qu'un apolhioairv invratc lea Hmdiea de caitoa 
pour I'arm^ de ^nibrt:-«t-Mi;tue, et te coostnuse, avec ce carton v^ndu pour du 
cair. quatre wot inille livrva de rente, qu'un porte*bal)c vjKitue Tu^ure «t la fttta 
ne«oticlii-r de acpt it hnit millii^na, dont U art le p2re ei doai rlli- eai la nuirc, qu'uo 
f>t^dicat4Mir di-viennC! uTi!-qu« par Iff nit*ill«in«nt, qu'un iiileudaut dv Iwnne maison 
aoil li rtcbe eu sortsm de service •ju'od Id tatsv luiiiUlip dc« &uan<^«, lc» boninci 
BB|wllent ceta Rcuie, dc mAmo qu'ih a[ipellt?u[ Ik^ute la figarv dv Mousqaeton ct 
Slajesttf r«neolure de Claude, lit coufondutii awe lea eonitellaiioas dr I'shfine 
Jm ^toilss que lout dans la vaao molls du buurbier In pnttcs des caaanls,' — (p. 147.) 

best. 






I^et Afiscrables. 



B ac cMB, thiit HcDCchmof of Ulcnt, has oii« dupe : hieitorT. 

[.^nveiul and Tacitus kre'tbe otily ouc« wlio kick kt it. Ill tlw prMeot 

%y it keeps nt ibi buck u kind <jf ufficial pliilasopltj, which WMUS tlie 

liveij of succcHg and doncca attendonoe in iU antochunlitT. G«t on : 

id vhat follovg i To ha in clover is to he dcrcr. Ton win at • 

itAfsry, Aitd you are set donn as an able man. It is the winner who is 

t wuraUipixjd. Be Ijoni with a Bilvcr Rpoon, and your fortimo'B made. 

I iHuve but luck, and the rest won't lag behind. Be but fortunate, and 

|;l}vn will be thonght groat. With ^ve or six immenge oxceptioiu, 

we the ^oty of on Hgo, tho udmiration of ooflAentpoianes is 

bvere weakness of sight. GUding goes for gold. Wbere yea oonie 

l^from, uutUini nothing : whore yon get to, is all in all. The rolgor is 

l«n eidcxly Nareisstia, in love with himself and applauding what is 

Those &caltse« a( enormous power, by virtac <*f which & 

18 a Moses, an JEIschylus, a Bauta, a Hicbaol Angelo, or ft 

1 Napoleon, are awardnd by the ninltitode, "at one gn " and by aiudip 

tion, to any odo who make* a good hit in no matter what. Tjot an 

krAttomey torn himself into a Deputy*, iv sham Conieille writo ft 

l^riilatfx, a umtDoh boeonia {HmtuiHsor of a honsn, n mililAty Pmdbomma 

gain by accident the decisive buttle of the day, nn npotliccary iuTODt 

, aoles of pasteboard for tho army of SambrC'Ct-Uenfie, and with tlus 

^' ]iaittuboanI whic^ lie sell* for loathor malcti himaolf lui income of 

400,000 francs, lat a man with a pack on lus back take Unary to wife 

and bring her to bed of seven or eight millions, of which he is tbo 

r&tber and she tho mother, lot «. preecber whine hiuRoIf into a bishop, 

^let tho otoword of a well-to-do family be so rich on leaving his plooe 

as to be made Minister of Finances, — men give all this the name of 

' Genins, just as thoy give the uome of Bounty lu tLu face of Moosquo- 

ton, and that of Majesty to tlie nock and sIiouldcrH nf Cltiudi-. Titoy 

mistake for the stan of the firmiunent, the splays which a duck nukes 

08 it jMuldJes about in the soft mod of a boggy groDnd.* 

Wo have now M-rn wliat mnnncr of man this Cljnrlns Franijois 
Hiciivcim MyricI, Bishop iif I)., was; nncl the rt>adrr will jiro- 
bably agree with Victor Hugo in ilit; i-emark : ' Comme on voil, 
il avait une manicrc ctrangc ct k lui de jugvr les choan.* We 
must leave it to him to judge -whetLer our author's solution of 
these ts:c(>ntricities is »uc wbirh <-ommcn(I<i itself lo )iis nccrpt- 
ftnce. * Je S(ni|M;oiine qu'il nvntt jtris cela dans D'lvnngilo/ 
(pi. 41.) Those who consider that such ecopntricities are matter 
cither of ridicule or of <:en$urc may rest assured tliat we are 
nndrr no immediate danfrer of seeing our own bishopi foUovr in 
the footstqiB of MonselgneuT Mvrtel. 

A new character inrw makes his appearance in our story, fjtrly 
in Octoljer, in the ^■ear 1H1.5, just l>efor<> sunwt, there entered Uw 
episcopal town of D, a wayfarer of most unprrpossesidng aapert, as 
may be iufen'cd from tlie folNtning giaphic description of him :— 

* It would hare been difficult to meet with a person of more 

wrotchod 



4 



4 
I 



A 



Im* Mito'ra&ie*. 

wretched aspect. He vras a miui of miildlo height, (hick nt, and 
strongly mndo, rimI in tho pi-irao of nunbood. Uo miglit h« {nxm. 
forty-«ix to fort^-oight Toars of ago, Tho Irathtrn Wzdf «f hin 
cop came duvi-ii and partly liiJ a face bui-Qt with gon oud heat and 
gtreuuiug vitli pcrspinitioa. A shirt of coarse ycUow cloth, fastened 
to tLc neck by a lituo silver imchor, dibjilaycd to view a hairy liusoin ; 
biB iii.>ckcIoth tvns twisted liku a ro|io, hiti truiistirB were of blue coatil, 
worn and tluviulharc, white at one knco, in holes at tho other ; he bad 
on a grey blon£e tiil iu raf^, i>atcliod at one clbon- with a piece of 
green cloth sown on with utrins : on hitf back a soldiers knapwwk, 
quite fnll, m3ll-Hlnij>p<^ and ptu-footly new — in hiit band an oUurmooB 
knotty iitticic; his Rtookiuglcsj foot in iron-bcnind sbooe, iaa head 
Bhaved, and hia beard long/ 

Such was Jean Vnljcan, the son of Jeanne Mnthieu (this name 
is ol iuiiwriiince) and (►f Jean Veiljcan, a wouUcuttrr at Fave- 
ToUes. He luul lost his Tather and mother when a child, and as 
he grew up carried on his fnthor's craft in support of an <--ldcr 
sister, left a widow with sewn children. lie liad rcacherl his 
twent)-fttth yenr, when a hard winter, no work, famine at the 
doOTf and despair in the heart, drove him one night to break 
into a baker's shop to steal a loaf for the starving children at 
home. This was in I 7i)5. He was condemned to five years at 
the galleys for tliis act of * vol .irec ofTraction.* Four times had 
he maile fruitless eiHloavours to escape, ami had only brought 
Xi\ioa himself fourteen years more of the galleys. And now, 
after nineteen years of hard 1nt»iitir, the lilK-ratrd convict enters 
the small town in tlie plight above described, in quest of IkhI 
and Ixtanl. He is tossed from pillar ti> jtost. 'I he inn, the 
public-huuse, the cottage, ay ! and the ver}' dc^-kcnuel, deny 
shelter to this pariah of civilisntiuu. *Je ne suis |>as mcme ua 
chien ] ' he exclaims in de&|iair. He goes outside the town into 
the tie his ; bat even nature frowns on him; the louring sky 
urarns him to rctm'ii once more into the town. He lavs himself 
down on a scone seat near the church. He is accosted by an old 
Wly, who asks him why he has not got him a bed. He tolls 
her that no one will have anything to say to him. *Have you 
tried there ? ' she said, piloting to the good Itishop's house. 
'No,' was the reply. 'Try then,' she iays. Among other 
eccentricities of Mooseigneur Bien\*enu wc have omitted to 
mention his practice of alivays leaving his house-door on tlie 
latch. This door opened into the niom where he dined. He 
was that evening on the |KiiiiT of sitting down to supper M'lten 
the door wns thrown o|ieii, and, much to the dismay of Madame 
Maghiire, who had just been beseeching the Bishop to let her 
frtcli the blacksmith, and put a lock on the door, as a very sus- 
picious 



4 






Ltt MiMtrahici. 



I IHCtoiii cfattiarter Lad beeu seen aboat tlie strrcu, in walkM tbr 
[object of her fean, Jean ^'aljean. Without waiting to br 
'•cvovtetl, ht blarts out in harried arcmts, as if stting brdnpair, 

• brief ftatement as to wliat he- is and what he wants, — a Iibciatnl 
cimrtct, dTing of Lon^pr, wean' witb Biti^ne. The statnnntt 

|d)ciu no rejutniler but this: * Madame Maflmre, dit IcTeqae, 
t Tous tnettTFZ un coorert dc pins.* * Are yoa draf ? * exclaims the 
amazed Jean Valjean ; *did roa hear me sav I was a ronriL-t? 
Lotik, Itere is mv vellnw {wssport ! its roUmr tolls it& nwu tale.* 
But the impa&sible Bi&hup onlj' resumes : ' Madame Magloire, 
vfnis mettrez des draps blaacs au lit de ralcore/ The two 
women stare, bat ubej'. The man is beside himself with Joy : 

* It y a dix-neuf ans que Jl* n'ai cuudic dans un liL . . . Voos 
etc* un brave horome: vous etes aubergUte, n'est-ce pas?' ' Je 
Hiii, dit I'eveque, un prctre, qui demeurc ici.' *Tirn&, c'est ttu ; 
que je suis bete ! je n'arais pas wx votre calotte.' The whole 
scene is fall of power. The fatted calf is killed. Tlie siUtT 
csndlestickB arc brought from the Bishop's bedroom, as on state 
(xrasions; with them the six silrer spoons and forks, which 
constituted the episcopal K»/ii)Xta. Not » word is said bj 
tlie Bishop to recall the unhappy I'ast of his jfuest, whom be 
nlwavs acrosts as * Monsieur.' BefUimc approaches. Candle 
in lianJ, the Bishop sLuws bis guest into his room. The way to 
it lay tlirough his own, All is quiet ; all but the brain of Jean 
Valjean. * Que s*etatt-il passe dons cette ame ? * Tlie answer to 
this inquiry is contained in tfiat wonderful chapter entitled 
■* Lc dedans du desespojr,' a manel of psycbolo^cal analysis, 
ruuclied in language of which the force and beauty »> carr^' us 
away that we have nu time to be out of patience with the author 
for railing at what he calls * la socictd * as the cause of alt this 
evil ; abuse which waxes stiM stronger in the wonderful chapter 
which follows — ' L'omle et Tombre ' — so Dantesque in concep- 
tion, so full of a weird-like grandeur in execution. After this 
insight into what is fermenting in the soul uf Jean Valjean, we 
are not surprised at the sequel. In the middle of the night he 
gets up, and in a moment of wild impulse straU the spoons from 
the cupbiHird over the Bishop's bed, and escapes through the 
garden. The account of the robbery is extremely grand. How 
beautiful this description of the det^ping Bishop, with the mocm- 
light casting a sort of nimbus round his head ! — 

* Yon moon in tho hcavuna, yon peaccfid landscRpo, that gaidon 
whcru not a leaf was Btirriog, that dwelling so calm, the hour of the 
night, the moment, tho silonce, added something solemn, and which no 
lugttage can deaoribc, to tht< vDUurmhlc re[iaM; of ynndor man, and 
inrested with majee^ and serenity, aa with a glorj, thoeo white looks. 



< 



4 



I 




Lts Mit^rabUs, 



283 



I 



Aod thoK) sealed oycs, that fac« Trhore all wa» hopo And uU waa 
oonfidiDguoiiS, (hat head of Ago and that Bleep of InfHacy.' 

In the morning Jean Valjean is caugbt, aiul brought Ijnck by 
the gendarmes to the IJtshop's Iinuse. He feels read)' tu drop 
with surprise wh^n tlie Bishop .isks him whv he had nut taken 
the candlesticks as well as the spoons : * he lind ^iven him both ; he 
must take ihem with him now.* The gendanncs leave the house, 
and JpJtn Valjran follnws with the candlesticks under his arm. ^| 
As he fitajTcers away he hnnrs ringing in his astonished ears (he ^ 
Bishop's ))arting words : *Jean Valjean, moti fr^re, vous n'ap- 
partenez plus au nial, mais au bicn. CcstTotrcame que je vous 
aclH'(<? ; jc la retire aux prnsc'cs noires, et a I'esprit dc perdition, 
et je la donne a nimi.' — p. 301. Jean Valjran roams tlirough 
fields ami Innes, without knowing ivliere he is gnjng ; steals a 
little Kavoj-ard's two-franc piece almoat without km>wing what he is 
doing. He is, as it were, divided against bimsclf. 'Comme 
unc ehouetti' qui verrait brusquement m lever le sr>leil, le fun^t 
avait ete ebK>ui et coinme aveugle [»ar la vcrtu." Tlie cnmmotioit 
within him wimld have been less wiKl if tlur gendarmes had 
simplv put him once more in durance vile. Do what he would, 
he could not efface the touch of the Bishop's band on his arm, or 
drown the sound of the Bishop's words in his ears. It was a 
presence not to lie put by. It haunted him : it possessed him. It 
scared him into virtue. It set-up against the Jean \'aljean thai 
was, a Jean Valjean that might be. His mind kept gazing first 
oil one. then on the other : the figure of the Bishop Hitting 
between the two. He looked with dismay at the Fast ; not 
wliolly without hope at the Future. At length he wept. The 
eyes which for nineteen long years of agony had not known a. 
tear now slrenmod apace with all the weakness of a woman, and 
all tlic terror of a child : — 

* How tnany boors did he woep thus ? Alter weeping what did ha 
do 'i Where did ho go 'i Was thi8 never known ? All wd can say for 
certain is that on that Home night the currier, who at that timo went 

%a GrcDoLIc and back, and reached B at three o'clock in the 

moming, as he went through tlie Itno de rEvi'chu saw a man kneeling 
UU the ground, in tho shadt-, oppositu the door of Monseiguour 
Bieureua, imd in the attitude of prayer,' 

It must not be supposed that wo have devoted a space at all 
disproportiouatc to this first volume Of the long epic — for the 
novel is the mwlcni epic — which has to unrol itself before us. 
Il is this earlier portion which gives the keynoti* to the whole; 
it is here, too, we may ubsurvu, tliat our auUior has put forth his 
greatest strength. Critics have prated much abuut the want uf 

. unity, 



Z« dHshvbles. 



aaitv in the work, aod have atigtimtised it as a mere congi^Ipt of 
cpiKKl*^. Thev bavc not teen, or have been slow tnackimwIiMlgp, 
that on the revulsitm of fecIinEf ami of chaiTirtcrwhicli look plai-e 
in that eventful October all the sequel of the storj' may as truly 
be said to hanjs^ as on the nratlt of Achilles the tale of Troj 
(Urine, la every critical juncture of bis life, on every ocoulon 
in which Jean Valjean dared to be greatly good, we seem lo 
hear those parting words of the Bishop, and to recall the day 
when he wrestled so bravely with all tliat was Iwitl within him 
nod ceased not till he had won the mastery. Ap"" and 
again, throughout the storv, this struggle lias to be renewed; 
again and again he bos tn choose lictwecn doing what ivns riffht 
■uad courting' what was safe ; between having a stain upon his 
ronscience and keeping a mask upon his face. It is this giVat 
epic of a cfinstrieiico at war with itself — it is this choice of lier> 
rules which M. Victor Hugo, if we read him arij;:ht, has set 
hirnself to unfold as he ti-accs the career of a despised convict — 
it is this which imparts to the M'ork a fiir liigher onler of unity 
than any mere external connexion nf im-idcnts can supply. 

The opening chapter of book iii. is entitled ' L'aiinfe 1817* 
(two years after we left Jean Valjeau kneeling at the Bishop's 
door), and contains a most humorous satire on the Restoration. 
Thcfsc ft'w pages have probably <bawn down upon the nuthnr 
sevwer critifism than all the rest of the work put together. 
To criticism of Uiis kind aime little zest has been imparted by 
twitting Victor Hugo with the political opinions which he him- 
self held in early years. Some of his first jKicms manifest a 
symjiathy with the Restoratiun which at times waxes to eiithu- 
siaun. In no respect, it would seem, were these ^Hieuis so 
marked with power of imagination as in their political colouring, 
A few years elapsed, ami the liberal tendencies took a very de- 
cided turn. Made a peer n( France in 1845 bv Louis PliJUppc, 
he still showtnl no disposition to ahamlon the Radical riews^ as 
we should term them, with which his later works abouiHl. These 
TL-aelicd their height in the Revolution of 184>j, when M. Victor 
Hugo, who was elected one of the members of the City of I^ris, 
took his place as one of the most brilliant and Icnst influentiaj 
orators on the Extreme Left. On all these fluctuations of opiiunn 
/which after all ended by sending M. Victor Hugo to exile vn the 
occasion of the coup d'etat in December 1852) KnplUhmen can 
afliird to look down and laugh, which we accordinglv <!o, though in 
this particular instance It requires considi-mble luiniljarity with 
the hutork' of that period to enjoy all the persiflage, the iKiint of 
which consists in representing tlie year lt^l7 as one in which 
a number of most trifling events, heaped together anyhow, Uwk 

place. 





Zev Mixrabies. 

place, to the exclusi<m from the narrative of all reallr historical 
occurrences. It is followed by an account of a 'spree* of four Paris 
students, which ends in the abandonment b_v those students of the 
miatrrsses with whom thev hnd for some time b(^n consorting-. 
We do nnt intimd to fnlluw our author intc» these orgies. His 
French critics hiivo been Kmd in denouncing: the vmy in which 
they arc described. Wc will not attempt to ar^iie a point on 
which their larger experience may probably render them belter 
judgPS than either M. Hugo or ourselves, who feel diat wc are 
whiiDy Incumjietent. TIte cpismle is increlv thntwn in as a 
vehicle fur inAkinff us acquainted with Kantiiu\ an uuhappy 
creature, ' more sinned a^inst than sinuin^,' as we arc leu to 
bf>lieve, who linds herself at the end ol' the volume abandoned by 
tile man in whom she had tiuscctl, nnd by whom sIr- had been 
seduced ; a mother, not a wife. She feels that she i» on a down- 
ward path which will oulv lead from bad to worse. Sheresolves 
to make a stand in time, and to betake herself to her native plac<\ 

M sur M . There she might probably find some one 

who knew her, and who would give her some work. Rut meanwhile 
le must ctmceal her sin; murt sejKtrate herself from her child, 
sold all her finery, and with some 80 francs in her pocket 
I^ris one fine spriu;^ morning, at thea^^e of twenty-two years, 
ind carrying; her child on her back, who was turning three. As 
she reached Montfermeil, just ten months after the ' sprrc,' her 
attention was drawn to twti little rhihlren, soniewhni youn^r 
than her own, who were plavin;; at the door of a kind of public- 
house. M. Victor Hugi> has not lost with advancin^^ years his 
wonderful pow*er of painting children. Notliing* can be more 
cxnuisitc than the description of thest? two children, or of Fan- 
tine's child either, when slerj>in^ in its mother's arms, or when 
juinlii<; in tlu? ^diIkjIs of its little plavinati^s. She gets into con- 
versation with ihc mother of the two children, the wife of the 
auberpiste, whose sijjnpost (a * Scrgcnt cie VVnterloo' carrying a 
wouudctl general on his back thruuifh clouds of smoke) was in- 
tended to convey the impression that be had been the means of 
saving a f^eneral's life at the battle of Waterloo. A few of M. 
Victor Hugo's powerful words will tell what manner of people 
these Tbenardicrs were." 



* 'Ci<!ftieDt da en mtnm oaines qui, n qnelqac fen tomlire li-a cfianfri< p:ir 
liassrd, deTienDent AuiluwDt inan9.1ra«ii»eft. II y avail datui U frmuii^ k' tiiid 
il'ane ^rnt«, «t dftus Vbomme lViod« d'un (p^ax. Tvus <lcux cuieut du plus faaut 
dcgrc twcvptiblct d« IVsp^cv de hidffuz proorifl qui » lait ilitii le wn> du inajL ' 
II Qxittfl d« cos Amts ^nvigBcs, rvculant eoaunndlrRicsi vtrrs Ics ti'nbbrvs. rtfmv^ 
gradaat dons la vie pluiAi qu'vUc* a'jr a1al)cen^ DBijilojaot Icxix-'nciicc ^ aug-j 
meater l«ar diflbrmilv. empirauC sus ec«K vt s'anprvignaul de plu> va pita d'uo* 
iioircvur craluKDte. Cn lionnefrt cctie fcmoe^iaieni d« ecaftnu»-Ili.'-HH. p. itt.) 

'Dwaris 



S86 



Let Mtserafiles. 



' Dworffl by onture, tliey nced&iJ bat Uifi warmth of fwme bell-bom 
fire t<) bo kimllrd iuto luuufiterB. Tho womui had it in her to be a 
hag, thu man to be a sconndreL Both w<]ro to uoy oxtvnt sitBCoptiblo 
of that Liileoiis kind of progroM which makda for what is bod. SotiIa 
tlusru oru of thU cmb-liko lutoro, over reaching back into outer dark- 
iscas, toko two fetcps back in lifo for odc step forward, tuniiiig all tha 
'ihiibs of oxporiouce into bo much added dc-fonnity, ever going {rom. 
bad to worse, and oBsimitng more and iiitiro a black uf dcfiHir dyu. 
SotJs such as these, that man and womiui bore about with them.* 

But we roust return to Fantinr, whom we left bilking with the 
slie-TliPTuinlinr, Channnl with the two cbiUlren whom shi- saw 
plaviiig ut the door, wln*« iniiurence had not as vet yielded la 
the virinus example of their {>arents, ami who would make, a& 
ihe fancied, such desirable companions for her own child, she 
asks Madame Theiiardior if she would take chtir^re <d Cosette. 
The nuciition of terms is then discussed ; a most exorbitant har- 
^iii IS struck, and Fantine leaves her child at Montfermeil in 
ciiarge uf the Thenardiers (who treat it with all maiiuer of 

cruelty), ami proceeds on her way to M sur M , She 

scarcely knew the town again, so greot wnstbe progress 1 1 liii I made. 
Its grrnt trade was the mamifHrtiire nf iinitntion jet. Toxrnrds 
tlie close ot IH15 a man liad setttiMl in the town, and by means 
of an invention which mode an enormous reduction in the cfist of 
tbo raw material employed, which had always been a heavy drag 
on the mantifnctnre, gave such an impetus to the trade, and such. 
incn*ase (i» the pmfits n?sulling from it, that in three years' lime hr 
luid made b<illi his i>wn fortune and that nf all ar<umil Iiitii, Tlii* 
man, it will readily be conjectured, was Jean Valjeao, who now 
comes Wforc us under tliv assumed name of M. Madeleine. It 
was in vain that lie endcavuuretl to shun popularity. With wealth 
came distinction, and at length, in spite of himself, he was made 
mavor of the town. It was remarked, that in 1821, when the dentli 
of Monseigneur Myrid was announced in the papers, le Pere Ma- 
deleine (as he was called) went into deep mourning. Tite Fau- 
bourg .St. Oennain j>t fetfo of the Urvrn thought they would take 
him up, as he was no doubt ^mcbodtf, or he would not have iiut 

on mourning for the llishop of D . *It was so, was it not?' 

asked an old lady curieute par droit eTancientietL The reply wa* 
Bomcwh.nt disfomlorting to their new-bora zeal on his behalf: 
*C*est que dans ma jennesse j'ni etc laquais dans sa famillc.' 
M. Madeleine's inaiiulni'tDry was dlvidnl into two sejHirate com- 
partments; one for men, the other for ivomcn and girls. ' II em- 
ployail tout le monde. 11 nVxigcait qu'uue chose: soyez honnetc 
Lomme! Soyez lionnctc fillcl' (p. 31). With tliis rcsennQoct, 
every one was sure to find work and bi'cad on applying at the 

factory. 



Ltt MitfrabUi. 



287 



factitry. Faiitine applied, nnil V(&% mlniitteil : but she had not 
been tlicrr a Iwrlvpinnntli Itefore the biisv tongue nntl prvinR 
curioBity uf inalcvulent eiivy made it known that she had u child 
at Montl'enneiL Tho suporior of the feinnlc factury, in obedi- 
ence to the ffenpral regulations of the ostablishmrnt, g^%'c her 
fifty I'rancs mid turned her ofi" Funtine's downwani (Mith is 
lincc-d iti tlirtllin^ words, Tlie exactiuns <>f the Thciianlicrs 
iuei'cascd in the inverstr rntio iif lier means nf tniM'lin^ tlu-in. 
She sells evetythinp, — her Iwir U> the barber, her teeth to the 
dentist, and ultimately herself t*> the first comer. * Ellc n'evitc 
plus ricn. Elle ne crahit plus rien. Tombu sur ellc toute la 
nuec ct {msse sur die tout I'nix'an ! Que lui iinjMirte ? c'est uiie 
eponge iinhibeo' (p. I2i)). One evening, a lu\r, cold-bluoded 
provincial libertine, who never passed the toothless prostitute 
without a leer and a sneer, took it into bis hcnti, out of very 
wantonness, to put a snowball down the poor creature's back. 
Frenzied with drink nnil despair, slie Hew at him like n panther. 
The inspector of police, Javert, made his api>enrance, and she 
was marched off to the statiuii-house. As this inspector is one uf 
tlie most prominent and best-drawn characters in the bui>k. we must 
devote a few words to him before we pr(»ccc<i fuilher. M. Ma*ie- 

leine had preceileil him at M — — sur M . He was the only 

man whose cordial g<H)dwill the mayor had never sHCCwdi-d in 
C'OUCiliatiu}^. Javert knew nothing uf M. Madeleine's antcce- 
dents : this alone was enough to make him suspect him ; keep 
his eye on hiin. But this was not all. He felt sure' he knew 
die face ; liatl seen it Iwfon?; when-, he could not tell, ihou-ih he 
strtnc- night and tlay In renicniber. An incident octurred which 
put him on tlic scent, and would prolwibly have made him act, if 
be had not been disconcerted and thrown off by Madeleine's 
wonderful comjKisure. An old man, of the name uf I'^uuehelc- 
vrat, fell with his *^an and horse over him. M. Madeleine 
came up to the siMit, and said tluit if Uiere wan no one who in the 
literal sense of the word would put liis shoulder to the M'heel, in 
order to extricate the man by relievinf; him from the ])rcs8ure, 
he would do it himself. Javert kept his eyo fastene^J on him, 
and said he had never known but one man — a crmvict at Tnuhm 
— capnble of such a feat, M. Maiirleine n^unml die glance 
without wincing, and tlien, with Herculean strength, raised the 
cart and saved the man, for whom he subsequently got a place 
ns gardener at Paris in a convent, wheie we slmtl again meet 
with him. Meanwhile Javert kept watching. In fact, we ore 
told— 

'All he lived for tniglit tx] ntiumic-d up in thew Iwu ivords— watch 

and ward. Of a earner uie most tortuous iu tbo world he bad nunagcd 

Vol. lI2.~A'y. i.'S-J. t tj 



I 



to mako a Blmiglit lino : bin usefnlneeH was liia coneoieiKse ; liis ditties 
his religion. Ha brought to tbc offit:« of a spy tbu frame of tniinl of 
a j>riL«t. Woe to tlio num who fell into bis iioworl .... lie lukd 
BO pleosoat rices, m we h»vo already aaid. WlirJi bo Vrtis in good 
bamour with biuuelf, he Tentorod on a pindi of snufF. It vrm in tills 
hm shared uur couuubn buuuuiity.' 

The whole of this chapter (»n Juvprt is nn admimblr portrait of 
the austere French ajjent dc police — wc must not call Lim policr- 
won, lor the EriiflisU word, wo arc tlmukful to «ay, convi-ys n 
totally different idea. It is witli this Jarcit that M. Nfndeleine r 
now brought into colli&ion. A scone of ^reat power rnsun 
between them apro)X)s of Fantine. Just as .Invert is scndiiiK" h^r 
off to prison for six months, the mayor enters the bureau, nnd 
asserts the rijrht of ndjudirntinfr the matter coiiferreil on him 
by the Code, and thereupon ortlers the release iif Fantine. T«» 
Javert's remonstrances he replies, first of all, by a courteous 
explanation as on cvewitness of tlie streot-row, and ultimately by 
an imperative Sorta;. Meanwhile Fantine, from whose lip» 
M. Madeleine hiid for the first time heard, in frenzied nreents, 
the tnic of wcx-, is jilacwl in tlin jnfinnarv attiched to the i:iaviir's 
own house, under the irharfje of wtme Sisters of Charity. Tliat 
evening Javert jHistcd a letter, addressed lo M. Chabouillet^ 
S^en'-taire da Mmsieitr k Prffct (h Folke. It is in vain that !M. 
Madeleine writes to desire the Thenardiers to send C'oseite. 
The order is evaded, and in reply there only comes a bill. The 
doctor i*ives it lis his opinion tlint if the child is to seo its mother ^H 
ativc there must be no delay. M. Mniloleine jtets I'antine to sisrn ^| 
on order to ^ive up the child to the bearer, and says he will either 
scmt or f^) himself. 'Sur ces entrefaites il sur^'int un grave inci- 
dent. Nous HVons beau tailler dc notre mieux le bloc mystcriciix 
dont notre vie est faite, la veine noire de la destiot5e y rcparait 
toujours* (p. 173). One morning, white M. Madeleine is at 
work in his cabinet disposinj; of some business before starting; 
Tor Montfrrmril, Javert asks to speak witli him. Tlie scene is 
told as ^^, Hugo only can tell it. Wc can but give a hastv 
summary. Tlie austere Javert stands CTcstfalJen behind the 
nutyor; and it is only when the mayor, who has received him 
coldly, asks what he wants, that be requests an application for his 
dismissal may be forwarded to l*aris. The mayor is all amajc- 
ment: 'Was it on account of the altercation about Fantine? 
'JTiat slwll all Ik- forgotten and forgiven.' No : it was worse 
than that : he had writt«>n to flrnounre tlic mayor as bein;; tlie 
convict Jean Valjean, who alter his Ulieration eipht years before 
hod robbed a bishop's house and committed a highway robbery 
on a Savoyard. They had written Dx>m Paris to say that ha 

must 



I 



I 



Lea Mis^ahtes. 289 

mnst bo mod, as the real Jean Valjean was now awaiting- his 
trial at Arras. A man, who called himself Champmathieu 
(which Javert now believed was merely a device of Jean Val- 
jean's, who had taken his mother*s name, which we have seen to 
be Mathieu, and who from Jean Mathiea had got to be called 
Champmathieu), had been taken up for robbing an orchard. In 
any one else this was a trifle, but in the case of a liberated convict 
it was a case of r^idice, and would be punished with the galleys 
for life. The discovery, Javert went on to say, was quite acci- 
dental. The gaol at the place where the robbery was committed 
was out of repair, so Champmathieu was taken to the depart- 
mental prison at Arras. He had no sooner got there than an 
old convict of the name of Brevet at once recognised him as Jean 
Valjean. Inquiries were made at Toulon. There were only two 
convicts there who remembered Jean Valjean. They are con- 
fronted with Champmathieu, and do but corroborate what Brevet 
had said. Champmathieu meanwhile, like a cunning dog, says 
Javert, plays the idiot, and simply persists in pretending not to 
understand what they mean, and in affirming that he is Champ- 
mathieu. When Javert made his denunciation against M. Made- 
leine, he had been sent for to Arras, and was obliged, with regret, 
to admit his blunder. The genuine Jean Valjean, he was now 
positive, was none other than Champmathieu. * Le vieux coquin 
sera condamne. C'est port6 aux assises a Arras. Je vais y aller 
pour temoigner. ' Je suis cit^.' (p. 189.) ' When was the trial 
to take place ? * asks the mayor. ' The next day,* is the reply ; 
* sentence would probably be given late at night' Javert leaves 

M sur M , but not without renewing his request that he 

may be dismissed. 

M. Madeleine's first care is to see that Fantine has everything 
she wants ; his next is to see after a horse and cabriolet which 
will take him twenty leagues in one day. He orders it to be at 
his door at half-past four on the following morning ; he then 
returns home. All night long the cashier of the manufactory, 
who lived in a room right underneath M. Madeleine's, heard feet 
pacing to and fro, cupboards opening, and even windows, though 
the night was bitterly cold. Such sounds were very unusual. 
What could be going on ? 

The answer to this question is contained in the succeeding 
chapter — * Une Tempite sous un Crdrie * — a prodigy of artistic 
and psychological skill, which alone would entifle M. Victor 
Hugo to the very highest place as a writer. The first feeling 
which came over him when Javert was relating what had turned 
up about Cfaampmathien was the instinct of self-preservatimi. 
With superhuman effort be kept down his straggling emotions, 

u 2 and 




and adjoumed all resolve with a firmness in&pired by twror, 
Tiirou^h the reoiaioder of tlic day he contrivL\l to preserve a 
ralni exterior, though bot buTiiing coals were consuming him 
within. Everjthinjf was blurred and (i>nfiisc<l before bis eye. 
All lie felt was, that a f|;reat blow bad fallen on him : tbat a 
great peri! w;i* to be shunncil. Tlie feeling of self-preservation 
was uppermost in lus mind. At any rate, he thoujjht he would 
juBt go lo Arras, and see wimt turn tilings took. It could da n" 
harm to be on the spot, lie ate a good dinner, and then came 
home and tried to collect bis tbouf;hts. I*"or some reason or 
other, he ^ot up and locked tlte t1(K)r. llien again, he got up a 
second time to put out the candle. He fancied some one might 
see him. Some one ! — who ? Fttol I nn Iwii-s or Iwdts could hirk 
out, no ilnrknesB blind, wlint was then staring a( hiin fai'r tn face 
•^his fonscienre ; that is, his (Jud. Still he fi*lt inojv comfort- 
able after locking the door and putting out the candle. 11 
leaned with bis ellxiws on the table, his face in his bands, awl 
tlinught ; hut bis thoughts slippml Irom lii<i gmsp. His will was 
unnerved : his reason was uiihiiigt-d. Untold anguish and dismay 
weie nil that be was sensible of. He gut up, and uj>ened the 
window. His bmin was on fire. He came back, and sat at tl;c 
table. One lumr gone. By degrees f>nc or two details came 
<nxt to view. Critical as was his situation, he could not but see 
»hnt he was absolutely and entirely the master of it. To ihiuk 
that that dreaited name uf Jean Valjeaii, Mhicli for eight years 
be had l>een endeavouring to bury in obliviun, llad now sounded 
in his cars — sounded, nut tu eomlenin him once mure to igno- 
miny, but to make that g'wid, rsrcllent Monsieur Madeleine 
more rrspected and rpsprrtoblc than ever — was enough tn make 
liis brain turn. And yet this was no mni'e than wliat liad hap- 

f)ened : what God had permitted tn happen. A thrill came ore 
lira ; he relighted his ramlle. He was all safe now. He was 
quit even of Jovert, whose suspicions not only were at rest, but 
^^^ who was also going t" leave dw town. Why h.id he got into 
^^K mch a fever i* It was none of his doing, wliat liail happened. 



I 



Providence had done il ; it wuuld be very wrong in him to medjlc 
with it. Here was the very tiling he had been toiling and moiliii 



^ 

r,^ 



for : his dream by "ight. bis struggle by day, his constant [wnyer, 
all done to his hand. God bod so ordered iL Then he jjot ujt, 
and walked about. He would think no more of it. His mind 
was made up. 'Mais il ne sentait aucunejoie. Au contraire. 
On n'empt'ciie pas plus la pcnsce dc rcvenir a line idee qne la 
mer de revenir ii un rivnge. Pour le malelot, cela s'apprlJe la^J 
marine; pour Ic euupable, rela s'anpelle le remonU. Dieu Bou-^| 
Icvo I'ame coiume Vocean' (p. 2o6). Fur the first time in bi»^^ 

life 



d 



Leg Mitirahles. 



291 



life he had tasted the bitterness of a bnd thought and a base act. 
His end piinc<l, indeed ! — he said to himself — but wlint end ? 
to dodge the pniice V Was St for that he had for right rears 
taken so mucli thought and care? Was there not a hif^her and 
iR better aim, the only real aim, for which he had livetl? To 
Mve his soul from a fouler bondage far than anj fetter could lay 
upon his limbs. Close the door, indeed, on his accursed Pnstt 
But he was not closin;: it. Great God ! he did but open it a^in 
when he l>ecame guilty of an art so Inse as to lay ap«>n an 
iiinoretit head tliat loiul vi infamy and of suffering which calls 
itself the fnilieys. 

' He fcU thnt the Bishop was there, all the moro really thcro because 

he wan nmnbcrcd among tiio dcnd ; he foU that the Bishop bad his eye 

'on hitii, that froTo hi^ncoforth it was K. Miulcloiuc, the mayor, nhom 

[witli nil his virtues he would count a« 'lung; and Joan Vayenn, the 

convict, vrhom hu would reckon pure and of good report. That Cho 

world saw his raask., hut that the Bishop saw his foee ; that tho world 

saw his going init and hin i-i>niing in, bat thn Binhnp snw bin consoienoe. 

To Anus then it behoved him Co go. to liberato the &lse Jean Valjean 

aod to donouDce tho true- one. Alas ! what sacrifice could be greater 

than tliiii — what Tiuttiry muro poignant ? Tu do tbtB was to du all ; but 

done it must be. Lamentable destiuy ! Holiness in tho sight of Grod 

Lcoold only be had by becoming onco more infamouii in the sight of 

IJnau. " Well !" hu said, '^ let mu go where duty coIIh— tluit man shall 

saved."' 

He said this out loud, without knowing he hod done so. He 
tonk Itis accounts, and put them in order ; then wrote a letter on 
which might have lieen s^en the following aildress : ' A Mowieur 
LaffUte, liauqaiefy Rue d'ArtoU, a Paris.^ 'ITiis letter be sealetl 
and pat into his pockct'book. Alt this was done, as it were, 
mechanically. A nervous twitch ever}* now and then about the 
lips was the only indication of what was going on within. A 
thousand thoughts lK.>^icgfil him. He saw InitlJiiig hi^f<iro him 
the two ideas which hiUierto hud been the guide of his lift? — the 

^CMicealment of his name from mankind, and integrity iu tho 
tjght of God. The one involved the security, the other entailed 

^the sacrifice, of self; and now they vrerc at war — these two 
iciples of action. The Rtshoji marked the fu'st crisis in his 
treer ; Chainpmathieu was to inako the second. Perhaps Uiis 
Champmathieu was, after all. a good-for-nothing fellow I Then 
he Ix'thought him tlxat the very fact of his surrendering himself 
np, and of the life he had for seven years been leading, would 

Erocure his pardon. But this thought was soon dismissed : the 
•w would be sure to take its course. There was nothing for it 
— he must do his dutv. AU his life would l>c poisoned if he 

left 



s«a 



Xfltf Mia^rabl&i. 



left it undone. Hb bmin was getting weary with tLcso per- 

Elexing thoughts ; his temples throbbed. Twelve nVlock struck, 
oth nt tlic church and the town-hnll. He remarked how much 
louder one was than the other. Then he thonght of an old clock 
be had seen for sale at a pawnbroker's. shop, and remembcrMl 

•the name on it — AntoJne Albin de Homninvillc. He fdt cohl, 
and lighted thn fire, and secmrd to forget ho had npt^iicd tho 
window. A kind of stupor c-iiinc over him. Wa had to make 
an elTurt hofurc be could remcuil)er what he was ihioking about 
w^hen t)ie clock struck twelve. All of a sudden Fantioe came intu 
his head. What would become of her if he gave himscli" op? — 
Av, and not onij of Iicr, but 4if all the proph* dependent on hia 
pau'ttioiis and his bouutv ? lie Imd imlv been tliiuking of him- 
self — nlwavs himself— the fii-st duty is to think of others. If he 

' Vanished from the scene, the whole pbicc would go lo ruin — the 
welfare nf hundreds would be undone Poor FanttiKs child, 
too — what would become of it ? Tbis act oi self-devotion would 
sjiread misery on every side I and all for the sake of an old 
vagabond who mij^ht. after all, he as happy nt the galleys as in 
■ome wretched hovel I Surety it was not right to sacrifice the 
interests of a whole population to those of such a fellow as 
Champinathien ! He ought to stnv where be was; it was a 
sphere of mormons usefulness, which it would be criminal to 
awndon. He got up, and walked about, lie was all right now 
— he was M. Madeleine, and Madeleine he ivonid remain. 
VVT>nt had he t« do with the name of Jean Valjean? He looked 
at himself in the glass, and felt more comfortable. His mind 
was at length made up. lint woulil it nut be well, this re5i)lutioa 
once tnkfii, to de&tniv alt nialertal tmces of the past, and to snap 
all the threads which bound him to Jean Valjean? He took K 
small key out of his pursi', and with it opened a secret caphoard 
in a corner of tlie room. From it he took a blouse, an old knap- 
sack, and other articles of attite which any one who hail seen 

Jean Valjean as he entered the town of D in Oelidirr, 1H15, 

would at once have recopnised. He cast a furtive glance at the 
door, and tlicn took all these things in his arms, and thrust them 
into tliP fire ; he relocked the secret cu])board, and pushed n 
piece (if furniture against it, to make it doubly safe fnmi lietec- 
tion. 'I'hc room was all in n blaze. He meanvthile paced up 
and down. Hts eye fell ujNin two silver candlesticks on the 
chimney-piece. They, too, must fi>ilow the knapsack. Hfl 
Btoojwrd down with them over the fire. Of a sudden a voi«l 
called tri him from witliin — 'Jean Valjean I Jcnn Valjean!* 
His hair stotid on end ; a cohl sweM came o\'er him ; his con- 
science smote him, lash after lash. He pat the candlesticks 

back 






I 



d 



Let Misdrable*. 293 

back OQ the chimney. The whole struggle hod to be gone 
through afresh. Villany in clover, or integrity in chains — which 
was he to choose ? It was now three oVIock. Utterly exhausted, 
he threw himself on a chair, and fell asleep. A horrible dread 
had overwhelmed him, and now filled his sleep with nightmare. 
He awoke cold as ice. The fire had gone out ; the candle was 
burning in the socket. He went to the window, and heard a 
sharp, hard sound along the street. Two red-looking stars 
seemed to be twinkling in the distance, low down. Presently 
he saw that what he had taken for stars were lanterns, and that 
the voice he had heard was the clatter of a horse's feet. What 
can this carriage be at this hour? he said to himself. Just then 
he heard a knock at the door of his room. * Who's there?' he 
called out in a voice of thunder. It was the old * portiere,* who 
came to tell him the tilbury was at the door. ' Tilbury 1 — what 
tilbury?' *Why the tilbury Monsieur le Maire had ordered 
from M. Scaufflaire.' That name recalled him to his senses, and 
pive to his face an expression of agony too terrible to behold. 
The old woman waited for a few moments, and then ventured to 
ask what she should say. * It was all right, and he would be 
down directly,' was the reply. 

We are so impressed with the conviction that in this dire 
struggle of Jean Valjean's between the feeling of duty and the 
fear of danger is to be sought the leading idea which runs 
through the whole work, and which strings together, so to speak, 
all the incidents, divert and diverse, which follow one another 
in rapid, strange succession, that we have made it our business 
to lay particular stress on those portions of the book in which 
the tide of battle is at its height, and the victory seems to sway 
now on this side, now on that. Once possess ourselves of this 
key, and we have no difficulty in unlocking the mysteries of art 
and skill which M. Victor Hugo has brought together from the 
rich stores of his fertile imagination. With this view we have 
endeavoured to give the reader some idea of the power with 
which our author has described the fluctuations of stormy feeling 
with which Jean Valjean was assailed at this momentous crisis, 
which was to hurl him from affluence and fame to the ignominy 
of the galleys. 

Jean Valjean's struggles do not end with his stepping into the 
tilbury. The succeeding chapter — Let Batons dan* let Roues — 
records successive crises in the man's mind as successive obstacles 
— 'spokes in the wheel' — render it almost physically impossible 
for him to reach Arras in time to save Champmathieu. The 
agony and despair which torture him as the wheels bear him on 
to the scene of self-denunciation tempt him in each succeeding 

casualty 



casualty to see the finger of God telling him to retrace hi« steps, 
and let tilings be. And every such temptation entails a frefeh 
effort to overcome i^ Overcome them, however, he does. 
Where there is no cross there is no crown. He nrrivcs at the 
Palais dc Justice late in the evening*. At e%'ery step he mounts, 
the iron enters into bis s(wl. The court is so crowded, he can- 
not find ailmitlnnre. Hi- semis jn his card to the Prpsitlmt. 
The name and reputation uf tlie ahic and benevolent Mayor of 

M sur M were not unknown at Arraa. He waa kbown 

into the rctiring^-room, from which a door opened to the seats 
Ijchind the President. Wnnderi'ul are the [la^rs in wbic-h Victitr 
Hugo ilesf-rilifs the final stru^rsle of the unhappv man. The 
trial itself, up to the meniorahir moment when S\. Madeleine 
declares ' Je suis Jean Valjean,' is alio described witb a power 
which no one but a Hugo could command. Everywhere we see 
tlint conscientious work for which ho is so conspicuous among 
his countrymen. We have not space, however, to continue our 
analysis on the same scale as heretofore. Jean Valjean is arresletl 
by the Javert who, but two days before, had been so cr^stfallea, 
but now cnjws as he clutches his prey ; he is lodged in the prison 
nf that town of which he had for eight years been the pride ; 
makes his escape for the purpose of concealing in a forest a 
sum of about 630,0(X) francs, which were lying in his name at 
LafBttc's ; is recaptured, and sent to the gallevs for life. With 
this event, and with the death of Fantine, ends the First Part. 
However much the n-nder may Ije astonislieil at finding the 
Srrond Part commencing with 1 70 pages on the battle* of 
Waterloo, which have no further conm-xion with the storv tlian 
can be found in the fact that an officer — the father of the Man'uJ 
who gives the name to Part III. — was pulled out from among 
thp wounded at that bottle for the sake of lieing rubbml by 
nienardier, and so laid himself, as he crrorieouBly imagined, 
under obligations to that villain for saving his life, no surprise 
at all can be felt that the child of the deceased Fantine should 
thenceforth serve as the pivot around which Jean Valjcan't 
«rlf-sacrifi(:e would be made to tuni. It was in consequence of 
his surrendering himself to justice, that he had nut n-'scued 
Cosette from the hands of the Thenardiers, and restored her to 
her mother; so now his first step must be to complete tlie duty 
which he bad left undischaigcd, and which was doubly sacrc<] 
now that Fantine was no more. When he arrives at the gnllevs 
at Toulon, he is supjHised to Ije dmwned while saving the life 
of one of the crew of tlie ship, but in reality makes his escape, 
and we find him re-appraring at Montfermcil, ami carni'ing awmy 
with him the wretched victim of the Thenardiers' cruelty. H« 

reaches 



I 
I 



Lex Mit^ahkA. 



295 



hi 



Tparlics Paris, and there is detected by Us old enemy, Javert, 

who, in i-nnseqnpnceof tlie affKir nt M— — siir M ■, Imd \wvn 

pn>niotM] let form part of thp Paris jjoHt-p. Tlip nrws ol" the rhild 
of one Fantinti having' lieoii rarrioil off from Montfermril l>v a 
itrimger h.id arousod the \*ipiIanro which luid been put to sleep 
by n parntpTiph in the papers on Jean Voljean's bcinjf drowned. 
After a ehast- of a most exciting^ clinracter, Jean Valjean effects 
Lis escape by climbing' over the wall of a ^rilrn, whirh turns 
oot to be that of the convent at wliicli, it will I»n remeinlH-ied, 
M. Madeleine had procured the place of p;ardener for Fauche- 
levcDt. On recognising the man who had saved his life and 
improved his fortunes, Fauthelevcnt devotes himself to his 
service, and discreetly asks nu questions. It was enough f«r 
bim to know tliat he liad saved his life. Once there, as tlic old 
gardener pithily puts it, tlie difKculty for Jean Valjenn was how 
get in ; and this difliculty was preceded by another, how to 
get out. A solution for tlie first of these difficulties is devised 
by representing' to the Lady Superior that he is becoming very 
infirm, and would he glad of the assistance of hia brother, who 
had a little grandchild who might very possibly become a nun. 
This bait is swallowed by the Abbess^ who gives him permission 
fur his brother to come and live M-ilh him. But how to get out? 
A nun had recently dleil in the convent, whom they were anxious 
to liurv within tlie walls, contrary to the law which forlmde such 
intermeiits. Fauchclevoiii is called in by the Ablx-ss to con- 
rjltation. While the nun was Iniried in the vaults of the 
convent, could not the coffin intende<i to convey her remains to 
the cemetery be otherwise filled, and so reader the illegality 
ihcy were bent on committing safe from detection? To this 
proposal Faurhelcvent assents the more readily, as be sees in it 
a means of conrcving Jean Valjean outside the convent walls. 
Tlie man in charge of the cemetery was a gxi'nt frieml of his, 
ond he would contrive t«> send him off to the public-house, and 
to remain himself to 611 up the grave, hut not before he hat) 
released Jean Valjenn from his confinement. To this scheme 
Valjean consents. Every day he remained in the convent at the 
risk of detection filled him with trepidation, Ixjth for liis own 
sake and for that of the child, whose fortnnrs were thenrefnrlH 
linked to his own. He was determine*! to quit it at the risk of 
(uflncntion. As U>r Cnsette, she could l>c carried nut in a basket. 
Tikis risk, owing to an imforesecn catastrophe, was greater than 
he had anticipated. Fauchelevcnt's friend at the cemetery- was 
dead, and liad betm replaceil by some one else, to whom ho was 
A perfect stranger, and who had none of the readiness of his 
predecessor to abandon the bier with an i for the beer with an e. 

The 



• 



d 



2DG 



Lcs Mi 



The scene which ensues, both inside the coffin and out, is one 
which may emphatically be called, in the language of penny* 
o-lincrg, a tenmUioa scene. At lengtli Fauchclcrcnt contrives 
ffet rid of this perversely sober gmvedisger, and so extricato 
Jean Valjcan, in a state of insoniiibility, from bis perilous posi- 
tion. At the Second Port wc find him infefciilwl in the convent as 
a^istant pardcncr to bis supposed brother, nnd ('usettc lulinittc 
rii {lupll in the ppnsinnniit. H'c tvill ciuott! n short pas£i^re frot 
tlie concluding^ p<'^<'< <>f Vol. iv. to show bow the aut 
connects this phase of Jean \'aljeau's career with Uie memoi 
bic events of October, 1815. 

'TTtmrever, Owl works in Kis own way. Tho conToct helped, bb 
Cosctto did, to huUd up in Jciui Vuljoan wbiit the Bitthop ]au\ be^rm. 
Certain it is thst on one side virtue borders rery vitmo npr»u pride. 
Tbu ifpoce bbtwenn is bridged over, and it in the daril who builds the 
bridge. Joan Yoljoan, v>'ithout knowing it, perhaps, may hare beoB 
on the coidincA of that bridge, when ProTidcnce placed him in Iho 
convent of the Petit- Picpus. So long as ho bad measured liimsclf by 
the Bishop lut n stan<Ur<1, lie hod thought Hcom of uiinself, and hod 
ivalkuil hiuubly before God. liitt for soiuo liiuo buck ho had begun to 
compare himself with other men, and pride camo creeping on. Who 
knows ? Ho might have ended by couiiu^ gontly back to Hate. Tho 
eonvcttk arrested him on this bIojw.* 

Tliis quotation we shall follow up by another from the seveDth 
volume, for the purpose of indic-itinf^ the direction which the 
fresh trial of Je.in \'jdjenn's faith is destined to take. Our 
author is there taking n bnckwnnl glance at Jean Valjf.in's 
blsfory, and explains tlie reason of his leaving the convent in tlie 
foliouin^ words: — 

* It will bo romerabcred that Joan Valjcan was happy enough in tho 
convent ; so much so that his conscience began to be tmcasy. Not a 
day passed without his seeing Coaotte. A fooling of brotherhood 
nuxrd Rtrnnger and stn)Ug*>r within him : his soal yenmod after thitfe 
ehihl ; it vv*» his, be said to himself — nothing oould deprive him of it 
— it wauld always be the same — ehe would dunbtluss boocmio a nun, 
led on as she was to do so day by day. To both of thum thn convent 
would from henceforth bo tho imiverso; it was there that he woidd 

rw old, that she would grow up ; that ^o would grow old, mid that 
would die. Separation, ub ! joyful hopu, was i>nt f»f the ciucstion. 
Anhf n;flL'ct<;d on all this, he liegan to be perplexed. Hepiitthe<]ne8tif>n 
to himself — Was nil this happiness his own tliat ho could do what ho 
Idtod with it ? Wua it not made up of tho bnppinuas of suothor, iho 
happiness of that child, vrhirh hti, a num on in years, oonfiscated and 
piir)i>mcd? Was not nil this filching? That child, he bothonght 
buusolf, IiaA a right to know the world before i-eaoanciitg it : that to 
out it off from every joy on pretcuco of saving it from ovoiy trial, thai 



Le* Mi$erahUs, 297 

to make nsq of its ignorance and isolation in order to sow the seeds of 
an artificial oalling, was to Uiwart the nature of a hnnuui being and to 
lie unto God. And who could tell but what Cosetto when ^e came 
to underBtond all that had happened, and fonnd herself, to her sorrow, 
a nun, might not end bj hating liim ? This last thought was mora 
selfish and I^s heroic than the others ; but it was more than he could 
bear. He resolved to quit the conTont.' 

Accordingly, after the lapse of five years, during which 
Cosette's education was nearly completed, Jean Valjean leaves 
the convent But we have been anticipating events, and must 
return to Part III. 

'Marius,' from whom it takes its name, is the son of that 
Colonel — the Baron de Pontmercy — whom Thenardier, we have 
said, extricated from among the dying and the dead at WaterloQ, 
This Baron de Pontmercy had won the afiections and the hand 
of the younger dau^^hter of M. Gillenormand, who stigmatised 
his son-in-law as the * honte de sa famille,' he being a rabid 
Royalist, and looking upon Napoleon and every one who had 
served under him as objects of unmitigated hate. At the 
Restoration Pontmercy was placed on half-pay ; and consented 
to surrender his motherless, and, as far as he was concerned, 
penniless child to the care of his grandfather and maiden aunt, 
who lived with her father, on the condition insisted on by M. 
Gillenormand that he should never attempt to get speech of his 
child, or to hold intercourse of any kind with the family. Marius 
as a boy knows, indeed, that bis father is living ; but is brought 
up in the idea that be is never to be mentioned, and that some 
terrible disgrace hangs over him. When he reaches his sevei^ 
teenth year his father dies, and it is only then that Marius 
discovers how shamefully he had been maligned. A violent 
quarrel ensues between him and his grandfather, which ends by 
Marius leaving the house, and refusing to be any longer de- 
pendent on M. Gillenormand for support. At heart the old man 
loves the boy ; but his temper is so roused by the Bonapartiste 
opinions paraded with all the exaggeration of reaction by Marina^ 
that the rupture is complete. VVe now follow the fortunes of 
Marius, who takes up his quarters in an old house, which is also 
occupied by the Thenardiei3, under the name of Jondrette, 
Some time, however, elapses before he is aware of it ; and, 
meanwhile, his hard battle with poverty is carried on with a 
manly determination which brings out all the force of his cha- 
racter. As M. Victor Hugo well says; *De fermes et rares 
natures sont ainsi creees ; la misere, presque toujours mariitFe, est 
quclquefois mere ; le dcnument enfante la puissance d*dme et 
d'esprit ; la detresse est nourrice de la fierte ; le malheur est un 



398 



Let 3fit^rahles. 



bim lait pour les magnonimes' (v. p. 30d). It was now 1831. 
Mnrius had rCHrhed his twrntu'tli year: after ihree years of hard 
wurk be had ctmtrivcd to wirn bread enough and to spam. It 
was no longer a matter of calculation whether he couM afl'oni a 
few sous to huy a cotelette, after having pasflc<l several day* 
without tastinc meat. About this time his attention is nttrartcd 
tinKards a youn(f girl, whom he racelj day alter day walking with 
an old man. Tbe reader will have guessed, before we tell him, 
tlint these are Jean Valjean and Cosette. The former is annoyed 
by the assiduity with which Marius renews his visits to th© 
Luxembourg; and not only ceases to go there, but changes his 
house, on finding that he had one dav l>een followed home. He 
comes across them again in a way he least expected it. The 
TTjenardinrs, by mnans of a begging letter, had rajolrd VHljcan 
and Cosette to come and sec tliem in their den, next door to tlie 
room occupied by Marius. Thcnardicr is not recognised by 
Valjcnn ; but has himself no difficulty in recognising Valjran, 
and lavs a plot for a guet-ti-pnns, the object of which is to extort 
money fnjni Valjean. Uv menus of a tron-JutUtA^ Marius seca 
and hears everything that goes nn,aud at once informs the police 

in Oic jicrson of Javert! The scene of the guet-a-pens is 

most exciting. Marius is sorelv perplrxeil at fuuling, fnim what 
he overhears, tliat this Thenarelier is the man whom his father 
had chiirgetl him in writing to Imc no f>p|H)rtunity of rewarding 
for the services he believed him to have rendered at tlic battle of 
Waterloo. Jarert had charged him to let off a pistol, as soon as 
ever any overt act of violence was pcrpetrntcci on the victim of 
tbe gueta-pens, whom Jnvert litth* suspccte<t to be Jean Valjean. 
Neither does he make the discovcrv on the present occasion ; ior 
wliile the police are busy handcuffing the band of robbers who 
one after one bad introduced themselves into the room, Valjean 
makes his escape thmugh the window. ^ Diable ! dit Javert 
entre scs dents, cc devait etre le meilleur* (p, 331). With this 
capture of the Thenardiers and escape of Jean V.iljeaii ends the 
Third Part. With the assistance ol Kponino, a daughter of the* 
Thenardiers, who was not lockMl up with the rest of ber family on 
the occasion of the guet-a-pens — and who nourishes for Marius a 
passion, scarct-ly secret, but unreturned by its object — (he address 
of Cosette is no longer a setTet to lier anient lover, Jean Valjean 
feels instinctively Uiat tlu; young man who made him alvindrm 
his visits to the Luxembourg is near at hand. He renews tluise 
visits for a <lay or two, and sees Marius loitering abimt in the 
distance. Victor Hugo df»cril>es wiUi great tieauty the feeling 
of despair and uf dread which comes over Jean Valjean, as he 
awakens to the fact that Cosette — the being for whom he has 

lived. 



i 



Let Alis^mhUs. 

iivcil, nod exposed himself to numberless perils — tliL* l> 
whom he hns acted tlie part of father, mother, brother, friend — 
the being who alone has ocrupiKl ami absorbed all the capacities 
of love and afli;ction which werp plven to him, and which had 
lain at usury without a sou) on whom to squander thcnt, till he 
liad rearhetl the threshold of old a^e — that this Cosettc mig;ht 
lie takf-n from him; be claspptl tu another's breast; be the 
object o( another's love I The jrahmsy which springs from a 
love into which nothiui? of sensual can enter or ever has enteied 
» always, it will be found, akin to a bitterer hate, a more sombre 
Hioruspiifss, a mure? devilish frame of mind generally, than that 
whirli is bi'goUen by jwiloiisv of the more onlinary ty^. Here 
were the {^ltius uf a fttf^h crisis, the chmd in the iHirticon which 
betokened a coming: storm. For Cosette, meanwhile, all was 
brightness and gladness. Marius had gained access to the 
garden of die house in the Rue Plumct, the scene uf tlie Idvll 
which in part furnishes the title of Part IV. Of a sudden he 
heart that Jean Valjean means to leave Paris, and go — C^scttu 
knows not for certain whither — perliaps to Kngland. Driven into 
a comer, Marius pockets his pride, and asks his grandl'athcr for 
the permission and the means to make Cosette his wife. TLe 
old libertine treats the whole affair as a silly amourette, and Ids 
grandson leaves the house in high dudgeon, before M. Oille- 
normaod has time to recover himself from his astonishment, and ^J 
to call him bark and clasp him to his arms. H 

It is June, 1832. Tlic days of the emeute, which it will be ~ 
remembered commenced at the funernl of General l^a Alarque, 
are at hand. The Kpopee uf tlie Hue St. Denis is about to ri>ni- 
mcnce. Mariiis, more from disappointment at thwaited love than 
Irom democratic rage at stinted UbertVt throws in his lot with 
the revolutionar}' partv, and becomes, in very wantonness, one of ^ 
the hemes of the Barricade nf the Rue tie la Chanverie. In the ^| 
thirk of the fi^lit a letter is given him from ("osette, saying lliat 
in a week's tijue she and her father — so she was wont to call him — 
would be in London. He tore a piece of paper out of his pocket- 
book and wrote to Cosette to say that by tlic time she received ^J 
that letter his soul would have tied, and that his body might he ^| 
taken to his gnmdfather's, M. Gillenormand, Uue des Filie»-ilu- ™ 
Calvaire, No. (i, au Marais. After des|)atchin;; this remarkably 
cheerful missive to Cosette bv the hand of one GavrocUc, a gnmin 
■*£c Pari* (one of the most charming creations in the Ixiokj, he 
returns to his post at the Barricade. Shortly before it arrives at 
its destination^ — we are speaking of Marius's note, not his Imdy — 
Jean Valjean, who was htigging in secret the i<lea of a voyage to 
England, which would rid him, as he hoped, of Marius, and nip 

ill 



I 



A 



L& Alitdrabki. 



in thf bad any lurking^ Icoling wliich Cosotte mif^lit possiblr 
mtciiain in return, was suddcalj an'estcd, ns he pu-od up nntl 
dtmn tJie room, bv a strange Hpcctacle which met his eye. He 
happened to be looking into a miiTor which surmountml tlie side- 
ixmd, and there read, in so uianv words, the five lines which 

'Cofleite, in the hurry of quittinj^ the Ituc Plarnct, had written to 
her lover, jwirtly to tell iiim of thoir new abode, and partly, u 
we have seen, to let him know that they were Imnnd for London. 
The m^-stery is soon snlved. CtwettP, who had [jonc ujt&tairs 
into Iter room under pretence of a migraine, which in reality 
was nothinf; but crossed love, had left on the sideboard the 
lilottin{;-bnok which she ha<l brou^rht with her iixim tlie Rue 
Pluinct, and on which she had drird tlic aforesaid inrti?. TTic 

limprcasioii was of rourse rcversfd : but this the mirror ren- 
dered legible, and tlius preseutt-d to the astonittheil eye of Jean 
Vnljcnn. The description of the old man's agony of mind fur- 
nishes the theme of a chapter almost as grand as that which wc 
analysed at length when M. Madeleine was on ihc e\'e of sur- 
rendering him&eir to save Chauipmatliicu. One might have 
thnught that idter so many severe trials his conscience would 

ijiavc become as it were seasoned ; but it was not so. 'Cost qot 
Aq tonles Ics tortures qu'il avait subic^ dans cette longuc i:[uc»- 
tinn que lui donnait la dcstlnee, celle-ci etait la plus re<loutable. 
Jamais parcille tenaille ne I'avait saisi. U sentit le remuemenC 
mysterieux de toutes les seiisibilites latentes. II sentit le plncfs 
ment de la rd>rL- inconnue. Ilelas, I'epreuve supreme, di«>ns 
micux, I'tjpreuve utdque, c'est la perte de I'ctre aime I ' (p. 4^). 
In the midst of this gloom and (le?(]).iir nhich seem to freexe up 
the issues of life, the letter which Mnrius luid sent by Gavroche 
readies the house and falls into tlie hands of Valjean. With 
almost tiendisb glee he chuckles, as he reads it, at the thought of 
Marius being dead : he resolves to keep the note in his pa<-ket — 
CosettP would be none tlie wiser. Her lover would be dis]M>sed 
of, and he (Valjean) would onc<? more be at peace. ITie sound 

|«f liring moile him put on his uniform of a garde nationalc and 
Stroll out, musket in hand, in the direction of the sound. 

How Jean Valjean passed through the ordeid which this di>- 
covery of the elumlestine iove-paasnges between Marius and 
Cosctte liad laid upon him, is die subject of the two euncbiding- 
voluiiP's, or Part V. By the time lliut he arrived at llie Hue de la 
Clinnverie, the defenders of the Barricades were sorely reduced io 
number : Marius was still alive, and Javert, who in an early stage- 
of the proceedings hod come among them as a spy and had been 
detected by Gavroche, was not yet shot, though still a prisoner. 
We cannot follow the incidents of the street-fight through all lis 

revolting 



: 



Let Mi$^aifk$. 301 

roToltin]^ and bloody fletails. Suffice it to sa; ilmt Jrnn Valjnm, 
who hud tftkra do part in the frar beyond exposing: his pvrsun to 
dnngrr and drcMing; the wounds of those who nere less t'urtunale 
tlinii liiiiisM'If, puds hy Irttinff .Iiivprt escape nn<l bv rnnvin^ off 
Mariu!i, faint ivitli Inssof tilood, ihrniifrh t!ie manhiilr* nf the preat 
sewer of I'arig. He no Buoiirr emci^fs fnnn it, nfler advpiitnrt^ 
and hnirbrcftdtb esiapcs almost as startling; as thojje they lad 
recpiitly mpt with alwve ground, than ho finds himself once moic 
ronfmntrd by the ubiquiums Javert His first cnre is lo lake the 
almost lif(dr&a body of Marlus to his grand fnlher, whose a<!dit'ss 
he hnd learnnl fi-oin the intercepted n<ite sent bv Marius to (^>setie. 
He thf n expresses his readiness to put himself in Javeri's custodv ; 
but Javert lets him jjo — an act of such abnormal dercliflion of 
duty, that it drives its author to commit siiiride. Life had in his 
eyes lost its rafson d'rtrr, and nnture was out of course when a 
criminal was allowed to escajtc the grrip of the law. The last 
volume is filled with the conralcscence of Marias and his marringe 
with Cosette, who receives from Jenn Valjcnn a dowry nf sis 
hundrett thtiusand francs. Once more the spirit of self-sacrifice 
had ^aineil the victorv orer selfishness — love ox*er hate, TTie 
Mirice of (iod, to which (he Bishop's parting- words had, na it 
weKf devoted him, had notlwcn in his case perfect freedom ; but, 
looner or later, that service had been |>a)d. But one more act of 
inar^rdom awaited him : he feels it to be his duty to tell Mnrius 
that he Is a lihrrated convict, Afarius receive* the Intellirrrncc 
with nnytliing^ but ptnianinntv. iintl tlierc results n WKiIiirss ln-tMifn 
him and Jtmii Valjcan wliii:h ultimatrlv roinmuiiicates itjM-lf lu 
Cosctte, and poor Jean Valjcan discovers that he is de trap. 
He dnips his visit to Cosettc, an<I worn out in body and 
mind, remains at hnnin to die of a liroken heart. As Nfariits 
leania (hat the suspicions which he had i-um^ived as (u the 
origin of his wife's dowry, when he heard that Jean Vidjeon 
had been a conHct, were without foun<liition, and further, tliat 
the man who liad saved his iiJc ond conveyed him fmm the Ifeir- 
tieodes to bis gcandfather*s housc^ and whom he had in vain 
endeavoured to discover, was no oOicr than this same Jean Valjcan, 
stung with remorse for his cold, churlish treatment of one to whom 
he owed so much, he hurries with Cosctte to Valjcnn's lodgings, 
but onlv in time to receive his last blessing and hear his Inst siirh. 
Thus have we endeavoured to conduct the reader through the 
labyrinth of this Titan tale, making use all the while of the clue 
to it* intricacies whirh we believe the author intended to be fup- 
nishcd by the successive crises in the career of Jean Valjcan. 
The whole history of this extraordinary man, as rerortlrd in tlw 
ten volumes before us, is but the development of tltat injunction 

which 



Let MithaUea. 



wbicK tlie nishup gave him. when, by an act of sif^oal cUmracy, 
he iTfloimcd him Irom the dotrnward path of a brutalised con- 
sciencr, and set him with bis face toward Hcarca-^on that 
onward, upward path, that o£ov ^I'lu, as Plato calls it, which 
leads lilvo Jacx^b s ladder, up to God. On the last ronnd of 
that ladder we leavp him, no lon^pr troubled by the persiH:ution* 
of n Jnvcrt, or hoartbrokpu by the in^^ratitade of a Cosettc. 

As we cast a Iwckwfird glance and suney the ground we have 
traveriiHl, we tlilnk the reader will ndmit that if the tale wr 
lutvc unfoldfil befori! liiin be indtn-d a wondrous maze, it Is not 
without a |)lan which wittiessrs to the artistic power of it* 
nuthor. It »?ems to us that nothing but the inconsiderate hiuti- 
ncM witli which incKlcrn criticism is in ihr^ habit i>f tosaiiig- off 
II jud[;infnL on the works, great or smiill, whirh come uuiIlt its 
kLMi, run luxouiit Un the blinibtcss whii:h, so for as we know, has 
every where been hliowu n'sjiectiiiiy the leading idea which forms 
as it were the trunk-line of the work. But the merits of Lit 
Mix^rabtit do not merely consist in tlic conception uf it at a 
whole; it abounds, [wgc after jrage, with details of un(^quBlleU 
beauty. VVe feel hound to ^a\ that we know of ni>thing in the 
whole conijiass of F*'rencli titi^niture which can even be compared 
with such, chnptem as those entitled ' Le dedans du desespoir/ 

* L'ondc ct Tombre,* and 'Petit Ger^ais,' in the first volume; 

* Une tcmpC'te sous un crune ' and ' Batons dans les roues,' in the 
•ccomi volume; 'La cudeni*,' in the seventh volume; 'Buvnrd, 
Ittvard,' in the eighth ; and ' Ininiortnlc Jecur,' in the tenth. 
The power which they so transcendently display is not merely 
tlinereiit in degree, it is different in kind, from anything in the 
langiuige nt any pcriot) of '\ks history. Michelet, indeed, in 
som*^ passages of his ' Histoirc dc Fmnce,' suggests a |ianillc], 
but on closer examination it will be found t1tat one cardinal dis- 
tinction prevents us from pursuing the parallel any further. Tb* 
proceu which pre»ide<l over tlie cradle of all language, and 
which embodied tlie abstract emotions of the mind in terms bor- 
rowed from the concrete material world, is one wliich also prg- 
si(h!s over that inexhaustible fund of imagery widi which every 
jKigr of Victor Hugo is rife. His metaphors are almost uni- 
formly the carn/iitff over of thn invisible into the vi&ible world. 
With Michelet it will be found the converse is the case: and this 
^lifferenre 5*i affects the stvie, that Victor Hugo i& still left 
without any tine to whom we can liken him. By no wriler since 
the time of ItiiliL'lais have itie capabilities of tlie French Ian- 
jguage been set furtli to such advantage — never beft>re have so 
much btm<-' and muwie bepn laid bare. Some French critic — 
M. Cuvillier Fleury, if we remember right — has said tlmt, in the 

presence 



Zw Mis^rabht. 



308 



ftroBence of the author of ' Lea Misrrahlts^' his reader* m\ist fi-cl 
ikp the Lilliputians in the hnmU of Gulliver. The coinparison 
is a ven* just one. Victor Hugo's mintl is cssciitinlly Titanic; 
he is morp nt h«»inc, slujws nuirr ptiwer, wlirrc he is dealing with 
cnnrcptitins uf n superhuman chanicLcr, than H'hrn lie dwells 
nm'Mijf ordinary men. And yet the ten<lerni><is the grace, ihe 
pallios which he brings to hear on his desmplion ni' rhildren, 
are no less wondertVd than the grandeur of Jiis style and the 
majesty uf his gait when dealing with the colossal and tbc super- 
human. Hut, while thus at home with j)Igmics nnd ginnCs he 
screms at times to he lacking In what Pascal soiuPwhiTo mils 
' IViitredeux.* His creations of men and womcii, kucIi iis we 
meet with in evcrvdav life, lav themselves open to criticism, as 
being tvpes of a class rather than individuals with dehnitely 
marked outlines of their own. This, however, is a defect which 
rlinnieterises all the works of llouiance literatuiv, as euntmstetl 
with thai of Teutonic races. 

It is much to be regretteil that a work almunding with beauties 
of such a very high onler, and destined to occupy a permanent 
place in the liteniture of I'rancc, should have been tiYiV/A/n/, in 
its pissnge to jioslerity, with so many digressions and so much 
nonsense. So little have tliese last to do widi the development 
of the sttiry that at the commencement of this article we assertisl 
our right to assign them to a distinct author, in order that we might 
ilie more completely dist^mharruss ourselves of them in following 
up the leading idea of the story from the commencement to the 
close. To <\o this, however, our course I'rom the end of the 
second volume onwards has In-ch a stccplrrhasc of a very anhtous 
kinil. At the very opening of the third vnlume we had to clear 
at a jump upwanis of one hnndre<l and fifty |iag4's on the Intllc 
of Waterloo, to which justice has I>cen done in iuioih*.'r part of 
this number of the ' (^arterly Review.' \Vc then come in the 
fourth T4»Iume to about one hunilrMl nnd f<irly pngrs on convents 
in general, ami on the Tronvent (if tliir Uur Picpns in [larticular. 
No one can di^ny tlint tht^se pagt^ are not destitute of beauties of 
the very higliest order, and bifathc an amount nnd <lepth of 
what we believe to be genuine religious feeling, in its way, 
which those who onlv know Victm- Mugii by what they read in 
reviews and newspji]«'r» wouM scarcely \tc preparml Ut inert 
with. We alhidni*spccri:illy to the chapter on I'l.ivi-r. Ihil then 
tliese beauties, though neither sparse nor slight, lose half tlicir 
charm by losing all their. ((/'r<>pfw. Tlie digi-cssions, however, do 
not cease Iwre. At the cumrneneement of the sevnilh volume 
wo have nearly a hundred |>ages on the causes wliich let) to tlie 
/■mmti-s ()f June, 1832; an<I tlie account of the Jounii'es des 

Vol. 112. — No. 224. X Itan-iiiidt's 



304 Ltd MitSrabks. 

BorricaUcs tbcrasolvcis — though grand beyond nil conr^'ptirtn — U, 
ofter alt, only a digrcwiou^ mid n dipression wlurh rxtc-ndt over 
sotnr (i\e hundred ]>uges. Nur is this nil, At iin(! of the most 
critical perinds of the st^iry, just when Ji>an Valjc^in hn» effected 
bis CM'ajic wllli Mnriusi in Ills JU-ina frimi l\w purbuit ot the 
suidli^ry, wu «io treat<il to aiiotliur hundred pagcn on the vftln- 
oblc uses to which the sewage of large towns migltl \n' put. 
From one of tliesc numerous digressiima wc aro tiMiipU-tl lo 
oxtract a few pogca, which will lie r^-ad, wo Im-IItvc, with all tlir 
intorcst which is due both to thn subject and lo tlie author. We 
nlludu to Victor Hugo's charnrtcr of Louis Fhilipiief which hoa 
deservedly been cansldcrnl one o( the molt remarkable passagM 
in the entire work : — 

* The eon of a fiither to whom history will certainly awanl 
" ftttonwittng ciroumetances," but as worthy of esteem as thiu &thor 
had been worthy of blame ; having all private and most puhUo virluea ; 
rorcful of his hcaltli, his fortune, his poraoo, and hU oraura ; knowing 
tlui vnlnu of H minuto, not always tbo trIuo of a year ; kanporato, 
MTuno, uoBy-going. patient ; a good mao and a good prince ; Hlucping 
vrttli bin vnfa, and having in Ida polooo sorvauti whoso bimlncgs it woh 
ti) nbow huinblor pcoplo his conjunjU couch — on ostciitatinu uf hud- 
wniil regularity wuioh wiM not wltli<iut itH nso after the illicit con- 
nexions of tlio cider branch ; knowing cvciy language in £iux>tK), luid 
— mmr Rtill^not only knowing bat spc-aldng the langimgo oi every 
intorost: an admirablo ropreBcntativo of the "Midillo Clmts," but 
I'Tcrioppiug it, ouil in cvuiy neuso itii fiUjicrior; having tlie iidmimblo 
tart, whilci prizing tito blood in his veinB, to rate himpudf at hi* 
iiilrinHto mluo, nnd, even in the matter of race, pimotilious to a degree, 
colling himself an Orloaua and not a Bourbon: vtty much indeod 
of n FiiMt Prinoo of the Blood iill the time ho was only " His Serene 
HighncRs," but ninking into tbo plain-«pokcn bourgeois as soon aa 
ho was YourH^osty : difhuoiu public, concieo in a room; stigmatisod 
as u taiscr, hut iwt jmncn sn ; at bnttrtm one of ibijae ocrntomicul innn 
who wonhl Bpcnd mthout ft thought if fenoy prompted or doty eallwl; 
k'ttcrul, but with no tm^to for lottent ; a. man of birth, without 
chividr}' ; uiiuplo, rahn, mul (Strong; adtirod by bin family and his 
liouHcliold : nn excellent tulkcr, as a statesman not susceptible of 
illnsions, no fire in his brcnst, a alave to the interests of the moment, 
govomiug from hand to month, inirapable of a gruilgu or uf gratitude, 
woaring put talent ogiunst mediocrity, clever at plnying off porlia- 
montaty minorities against thoso myBtorlous unanimities which keop 
growling Iwueath a thruno ; open-}iuart«d, Kuniuliucs opcoi t^i tlia 
TBTgo t>f iiiijtruilouee, hut ejilching himself when thus tripping with 
wondcifnl uddiuis ; fertile in iinding cxjiodiuutK, and in piittiitg on a 
faee oud a liuiak: iiialdng £)ui-()}io a hugbear to Fnuieo, and Fi-anco lo 
Eur*iiwi: liiv-iiig Kyund all difqvuto hia oouatry, but iircforrlng hia 
fiuuily ; priziug iuiwt«:ry mure Ihun uathurity, nud antliority moro titan 

dignily — 



4 



XiW dfunttHM. 



S05 



■ligni^— s tondenoy thin wliich ifl eo fiur nntoward, that, boing >)eiit on 
ocnnpMHUig «DO(»a(i, it ooantii cunning among its imftrumciitH anJ dooe 
not oxoltule baaouMs, but which is 6o liu- tenofioiol thai it {irusctrTee 
the polioj of a oonntry trnm violont crises, tho state &om fmctiin«, 
ftud society from catiuirophpg ; jwiinststking. accurate, Tigilaut, 
Attontiro, aagodoiu, iuiloiatigalilij ; t(onuitimo& giving hinu^cU tho Lio ; 
ithdtring n buhl frout to Anittria nt Aucono, mnJdng a dood act at 
Kugliuid in Spun, bonitmrdinff Antwerp and paying Pritchard ; 
inning the M&raoilUise and «ngin^ it with zcet ; inaooostiiblu to 
(lojoctinn, Ungiior, to a tiiHto for tiio Bc««tifid mid tbo Ideal, to 
{iieonsidorate generosity, to Utopian, (o-chimioras, to anger, to vanity, 
and to fear; capable of every ImoTni form of poraonol valour; at 
Vabnya genoml, at JemntHpen a cnnimon Boldior: eight times the bntt 
of a ngioido, and novcr nith a smilo off his £^o ; bravo aa a grenadier, 
oounigcoua as a thinker ; ncvtir uucAsy but at tba prnspoot of a 
Karopaui conTulainii, aud ill-snitod for groat political Bchetnes ; 
aln-ajit ready to ri&k his life, aever his throne ; nuUdng Iuh will fult 
rather Uiau suiii, tlut tho obodieuco might l>o p»id bi the luliiit mero 
than to tlio monarch; gifkid with observation, not with dirination; 
not tronbling Uiui»iolf about carrcnts of thonght, but a good jndgu of 
men, tliat ia, forcctl to see Ifuforo ho coald duuide ; full of gmid Kcutnc, 
prompt and kixju, of practical wisdom, ready of speech and witli n 
prodigious memory ; to that memory having hourly reoottrse — hl» 
only 'point of roftorobhuico with CajBor, Alexander, and Nuimlcou; 
knowing facts, details, dntes, names, but ignorant of the tendonciofl, 
^ passions, tbo habits of thought of the moltitade, tho iuvrord aspi- 
rations, thu hiddun and ohHOoro formontBtiuns of tho auul, in a word, 
of oTorything which might bo colled tho invisible currontB of tho 
oonscienco; occeptod by the surfoco of Frnuco, but not much liked 
by the lower strata; getting out of tho diQlctiUy by liuutuiing; 
governing too mnch and not reigning enough; his owii rrcmicT; 
acxttin)iw at Hti-mmiDg tlio inuneoHity of ideas witli tho trifloB of 
riiiUiticM: combining a gcnuino creative power of civUiBfttimi, order, 
and organiaatiou with n kind of pcttifoggiBg and quibbling spirit; Uiu 
foitndcr and the Pri>eiirr'.ur ef a dynasty ; having in him a, dash of 

!!har1oroagnu and n dn^h of iin nttornoy : in a wmxl, o man of \o(tj 
original mind, a prince who nuide his role felt in Kpito of Ltio 
nnoastnoRS of iFmnoo, and his inSuence in spito of tho jcaloosy of _ 

Europe Louis Philippe will bo classod among the eminent men of' 
bis tunc, and would bo mngcd among thu iUuHtrioutt Huloru of hiHtury, 
_if ho had only liod a little Invo of gltuy, and tf his mind hod boua as 

luoh imbned with a symxaitby for what wan great as with a scnitt of 

rhat was uscfoL' 

Many nmre pages follow. Thi* whole is wound uji by tlw 
foIlowiDg toufluiig words :— 

* lionis Pliilippo ha'nng l«X'n jndgod sovoroly by smuo, harshly by 
others, it is only natural thut one who has known that monarch, nud who 
is biniaelf at prosont notliing niuro tluut a shadowy boing, Rliould ocimo 

x'i aiMi 



* 



and giTe hia cviileneo for Iiim tn tlio faoo ot History. TUfi ovide 
bo it what it may, is nt least disintetoeted : nno K)i»lnw may be 
ftUovod to coQfolo another ; to eharo a ocmuiKm dArkne&a gi^^ea h nglit 
to ptftifio : and wo neud not fuar uf its bolng ssid of two tombe m exilo : 
Tms one flattered tho other.* ^^ 

On the social and pitlltit^ opinions of which these numcroia^l 
dip'essions arr mnde ibp vehicle, it is difTicull for an Kngtishraan 
tn speak wltliout inii«itirnr(? bhiI surprise ;^imi>ation«> at the 
nmnzin^ ig-norantrc of tlie rudimcntii of social and political philo- 
sophy which even such a man as Victor Hugo displays in m'ei^r 
line ; surprise at the stolidity which prevents the author from 
sccinij that the events which are cither the pretext i»r the caos^H 
of his becoming; and mnainin}; an i-zile werL* Imt the rmtnra|^| 
and only jiossihle fruit of those doe I ri hits., which are paradw} 
witli so much I'tnpluiais aiul apparent sincerity. Not otten has 
preatcr genius been placed at the service of greater nonsense. 
Had wc followed the example of certain critics of *Les Mis^ 
Tablet,* we should have initulged in ridicule of thi^se digressions 
and tliis nonsense, tti the ext-lusioii of alinust all that reallv cun- 

stitutc* tlvc true beauty anil grandeur of the work. Nothing 

could have been easier than such a task. Possibly the love o^H 
detraction, which holds so firm a place in the human heftrt,^^ 
might have rendered tliis treatment more palatable to the public 
than that which we have adopted. We venture lo think, how- 
ever, tliat we have cliosen the Ijetter — we arc certain tliat wc 
have i-hosen the more IalM>rinus — jwrt. Wc liold, wilb Winekel- 
maiu), that, of all canons of criticism, tme <if the most important 
to bear in mind Is this — always lo set yourself to find out what 
Is beautiful in a work of art before you begin to criticise the 
defects. 'Wliatevcr may be tlie blemishes observable in tliis 
work — and we have not been slow to point them out — it lican 
undoulitiHl traces of having lieeu tlie produce of much litinest 
toil, and many noble aspirations. Qualities such at these am 
not of such common occurrence that we should treat their pot* 
sensor with sarcasm and contempt because he indulges at times 
in extravagances which test the patience of the reader. 



Art. II. — The Phfome Diaioqves for EntfUsh Rftuiers. II 
William Whewell, D.D. 3 Vols. 185y-l»r»l. 

IT is one of Mr. Kuskln's dicta that ^in intelligent and rightly 
breil youth or girl ought to enjoy much even in Plato by the 
time they are fifteen or sixteen.' Dr. Wljewell is not less 
sanguine in his expectations. He has octctl on the supposition 

tlwt 



d 



7%e Platomc Dialogues. 



ao7 



tliat 'a loi^ portion of the Platonic Dialoefues' can ' be mnde 
intelligible and even inttTt-stinj^ to oniinary readers of Eiif^lisk 
literature' We s^itijiutUIxt' witli him in his h()|H'> anil we 
applaud the spirit of his uiidertiiliiiijf. It inay Ih-, indf*-'d, Uiat 
bis endeavour to jiopularize the ' wa^ of thinking * known as 
Greek Philosophy is not throughout inspired witli ilie highcat 
reverence for the genius of these writing*, which he pruces 
chiefly for their educational value. He has not ' unspnercd 
tlie spirit' of thir freat Athrnian. Hut the work presents wa 
many traces of a genuine liking and ab/ukst entliusinsm for 
Flato, an<l in many parts is executed with so inuch^ vigour, 
that we desire to accept it cordially, not only as an additionjil 
proof, if that wxrc needed, of the xmiversality of its author's 
interests and powers, but as a timely contribution to the Platonic 
literature of our country. 

There was certainly nioin enough in England for a fresh 
attrmpt to make Plato acce&stble to those who eiumol * enjoy' 
him in the original. Until late years the only English trans- 
lauon of the whole of Plato's works was that in five thick quarto 
volumes by Sydenham and Taylor (1804). Sydenham's dialc^es 
(including the Symposium, Mcno, and Pbilebus) leave compara- 
tively liule to he desin^cl ; but unfortunately tlir great Iiiilk of the 
work is done by Taylor, wht>, though he has turntil some things 
gracefully, is frenuently deficient both in style and aeeuracy. 
Shelley's Symposinm is in parts exquisite in point of langujigc 
and rhythm, but he has fallen into some errora which were 
avoided by Sydenham. More recently a complete version of the 
DialogUL-s by different hands has liet-n published by Mr. llohn. 
Tlie three volumes are of unequal merit, but none of them can 
pi*tend to first-rate excellence. To these, and to the elegant 
little volume of Selections in which Lady Chatterton has brought 
together some of the most impressive passages of Plato, translatctl 
by herself, we can only allude in passing. Besides thesi*, two trans- 
lations of separal(! dialogues have lately appeared, which have a 
more serious claim to lie considered : of the * Ilepublic,' by Mi-ssrs. 
Diivies and Vauglian, late Fellowsof Trinity College, Cambrldije; 
and of the ' I'hilebus,' by E. Poste, Esq., Fellow of Oriel College, 
Oxford. The first-named publication is already passing through 
a second edition, and is undoabte«lly a very meritorious work. 
But it ran scarcely convey to a rwider who is unacquainted 
with the Greek anything like an adequate impression of thn 
p«ietical and dramatic power manifested in the ' Republic.' TIio 
peru&al of it will convince any one who is familiar with the 
original how difficult it is even for good scholars tu translate 
Plato. The art of translating is like the art of preser\'ing : it 



1* 



308 The Platmie Dialoguts. 

is Jmpouible lo keep the colour anil tbc Arom& in thi>: 
I'rosLucss, and yvX tlic dcgr^-c in wliicli this |>oinl is ajtpronr 
tlir test nC skill. Miiny (if tUr finrr tuuclies of Plato's iniulerpiece 
hflVL- ili.saiiiicut-(-il in lliifi rnpv,* Mr. Posle has beon nmtv boo 
cMsful. His verBiuii, whik* fafilidi<tu8ly accumlc, cfjmbiiiM tk 
c-fTtnia antique <H|>tiity with case and smoothness. Still it tnatea 
a little too much like the dried fniiu The * Philchtii' could not 
by nny rattans be presented to English readers os a [>opul»r 
trrntise ; hut wltli all the rninplexity of its m:issivc structure, it 
Lns n li^lit and ^Tnrefu) beauty and an }uimioiuuus iimvement, 
which wi: would fain liave seen inure |>i;rfcrtly rcnderal. 

The Platonic Jlialofrues, as Dr. Whcwoll h^ iutr»du(*i?d t3»i?m 
to us, come bd'ore ua witli a more eoRiic:in(? air. It must be 
admitted that they a0brd very pleasant reading. They have no 
lack of |)crspicuity, nor of freshness and vigour of expression. 
If other tmnslators, in preserving- some niet't^ of uuTuung-, have 
occasionally sufltTwl some of the pitli and force of llir ori*cinal 
to escape uem, Dr. Whewell, by kiN<ping a tough hold of his 
author's drift, and of the Saxon itliom, moves with a firm 
step, even where he may have tixi hastily let po the finer clue of 
literal interpretation. But, as we have already liintcd, wr 11x1 
a want in n'adinp him which troubles ns moiT than miiitnkcs 
of f:oilstrulng. The translator lins not suHirient faith in hi* 
author. For what Wordsworth sara of the poet applies with at 
least equal force Ut the phtlosupher: *Vou must love him, rre 
lo von he will seem worthy of your love,' And Dr. Whewell 
is not in the fullest sense a lover of Plato. Either his mind 
has not been cast in the same imai^inatirc monld, or possibly a 
wholesome n-artion against the high-flying" intrrprrtiTs has 
carried liim a liftli* Urn far. Whatever mav Ix' the cause, ho does 
not appear Ui \m'. ipiUe an entliusinstic admirer of tbc FUtuiiic 
wi&dom, and he is not always a satisfactory intitrpreter of I'lato'* 
thoughts. 

Tbc defect adverted to is not merely that the style is inaile- 
{|titil(-ly ivnderrd, — that for instance the various music of the 

* 1b soidv caiKS the rendering appears to t>u ( «» vri(i» nader eomctiga), aafc ' 
nwratf dnixrfrvt, but ntislsken : e^ p. 373 (St"; — Jl in. ' lo eausrt which ; 3(«, 
4«£$*ir9oi tt ical J4<C<Tffai, ' to riv.vrtvl>«; tbc vktiiii <^[ a Hi; ;' 421, imafi^^e^ ■ wc 
are well awsra tllat w« uigbl*;' \t. 449, tJ if^it tcitu ' tlii> wonl rislil ;' p. 4W, 
Ita^ripoft^MM rufit ^n^ra^unUp F*«cr. 'certain itKtiviilnilscumipU^bjSopkiM* 



I 




p. &79. •biif Uifityin, * U'itbout auy excow fiir u;* l>. 6V2, rkr* UXa inXav^ 
|hA( Ty A^vy, * And luvo wc twt diT«:st«d ourselves of all toooodary ooiidder»- 
dons in the coarse of the aigumcnt ? ' 

Phaednu 



M 



The Platonic Dialogues. 



309 



llurdrus {wopapnivtot pvfffu>l) and the simple gmcQ of the IV^- 
tagoras arc rrprcsentcd by the same rougli and occa»i«»iially 
frigid manner— nor merrly thnt tbr fragmentary mode tif trcnt- 
mrnt is ill luL-iptod fur tlu* rrjinnlurtion of a work nf nrl : it is 
rather thnt ftomc part of uhnt luv d(H?p(.*sL in I'lati* and- of nhat 
he most valu<:d is thnjwn into Oic background, if not ignored. 
Ilcnce tlie gradations tbnmgh which bis pbiluftophy unfolded 
it»rlf arc traced imperfectly, and tlic real hannony wliich per- 
vades this * diverse l)ody of writings' is obscured and marred. 
Thore nre elements, indeed, of Plato's lifcwork, io which \ti. 
Whewoll liBS given fresh prominence, and which n Irss c*>ol iiiid 
nnexcitwl handling has sometimes eliminnted. For the meteoi^ 
lijfbt of German philosophy our author has substitutcil the candlu 
of l!)nglisU common sense ; while in bis command of geonu'try 
hi! holds a thread which reaches almost directly to the Amdeiny. 
He b.is done wisely in protesting against certain mide mi'thmls 
by which Plato's meaning h overlaid with * modern tbought,' 
and disguised under the language of Destartes or Hegel, He 
has further avoided the mistake of aiming at a formal consist- 
c-ncy, nbilc sacrificing the obvious meaning of a jmrtieular 
writing. One bond of connexion between the several dialogues 
he has brought into full relief; the common presence in Uicm 
of the direct, unswerving, merciless appeni to common wiisi-, 
and tbc absolute fletermination to uphold an immutable momlity. 
Our autlior, if not deeply imbued with Pliitonism, is a gcjuiitie 
Socratic. He is strongly attracted by what Antlsthenes called die 
iSocratie vigour {XtDKpaTiicriv i<rxpv)f the inexorable senuencc, tlm 
k<?en wit» the imiierturlxible good humour, tbc homely, yet sub- 
lime, mnral attitude of the Father of Philostipliy. Ho tJinri»iighly 
enj(»yB ihe way in which .Socrates sets Uu! young men a-thiuking; 
be is entertained widi the discomliture of ihc Sopliist, though 
he is no iesi pleased when the adversary makes a gi«id fight of 
it and dies Iiord : and he is ever ready to npprecioltr the mural 
gmndeur of the whole position {even though coloured here ami 
there with ' Platonic eiaggeratio™ '). H.ul he UtmI in Athens 
at the time of its greatest glory, when jihllosophy had its birth 
diere, it is more than doubtful whether be would have ai-com- 
|Hinie<l Plato fur, but he would have Ix-en found with PliiJo, 
l^ucUdes, and Antisthenes at the feet of SocrBtes, and wouW not 
have been lightly absent from his master's dentil. The ;ts|>ect of 
Plato's mimi which he has presented to us is perhaps the most 
Universally iiilerrgting, and certainly lias the nearest affinity to 
English mtnles <»f tliought 

To stimulate intelligence, to rouic the mind to »pek for clear 
definltiuDB of familiar notions, especially of those which arc 

at 



1 



810 



The Platonic Dialogue$. 



at once most familiar and most imlcfinitc, namely, out moral 
iilras : thpse object^ common to Plato and Socrat<s, Vh. 
Whewcll fully recogTiiscs, ami he exliibtta with considerable 
pith and racincss the 'inductive' methud of catechizing by 
which they are piirsucil. But Socmt^'s was somethinf*^ more tluin 
an acute rrasuner about etliics in thtiir infancy ; and the intea&lty 
,-tit liis penional charurtirr was a('eoni|iaiiii'd with a correspond uif{^ 
'loftini-'ss of inti-Mi'ctual aim. H« sought with religious jKrli- 
nacity not merely knowledge of moral relations, but knowledge 
as such. And that which binds Plato's dialogues together is the 
continuation of this speculative impulse and the eonsciousnest uf 
it fvrr liccoming more distinct until it has readied the whole 
ext»mt of pn^viiius and »^<mtemj>itmry tlmughf, und has travelled 
over every surrounding asjiect of Mellciiic life. The same spiiit 
mlcs amt<l&t the rich variety of the I'tunlrus and the comparative 
simplicity of tbe Protagoras and Meno. 

'I'his cvcr-jjrcsent spirit of inquiry is the very life of Plato; 
and 1( is this which Dr. VVTicwrll ap|Miu^ frequently to overlook. 
The cause may be* jKirlly gathered from his own words in the 
preface to his first volume : — 

' If T liavu been led in many coecs to views of the pDr|]ort of thoso 
iliah>gm>HdilTercntfromtbo vicwa whieh havobocn put furtli bymodom 
tnuihlulofM and cununentatora, I have tried to give my rua^onft fur my 
iiiUirprL'tHliou, atul have diKcussed Uio iuturprtitations pnijKiHcd bjr 
others. To tliosc who have been accnatomed to the ustml utjlo of 
fionrnicntitig upon the " Flatoiiie DiatnpioR," T Rbidl pmbahly appcu*, 
liespoeiaUy iii the earlier Dialogues of tbio Hcries, U* kh; in Plato a IcBH 
profound wixdum tliau fans been commonly ascribed to him. Hut X 
]hi[)4! tliu rouder will fiml in Uio DialnffiicK ihoniKclvi^ lU hero pM- 
i4etil«d, nud in their couiiexioii with cauh otlicr, u jn-stilicatioD of my 
views an to the pur{>oHc and objoct of tbe arguments uuod. In evoty 
part my rulu has been to take whut Miumud thu dlrvct and iintnral 
import uf the Dialuguo as its true meaning. Somo of the conunouta- 
tors arc in the habit of extracting from Plato doctrines obliquely 
implied ratbur than directly ossbrlcd : iudcisl thuy eomotiaics seem to 
aaerilie Ui llmir PUt<> lui ironj- bo profound, thnt it makes no difTerencu 
in any spocial caac whether he asserts a proposition or its opposito. 
I have taken a difforcQt conrso, and I have obtained, as I think, a mora 
conmstont retiidt.' 

We have already gi-aated that it is |wssihlc t<> Hml too much 
in Plato; tlint is, to attribute to liim associations which are of 
another age. But when fully guarded against thiii ilangcr, and 
wholly rtjKirt Ironi any desire to give a profound meaning to 
i-itmmon-plnce language^ an attentive render is soon led to suspuc;t 
him uf a very deep irony and a h>vi« of indirect expression. 
Further, as he becomes familiar with Plato's writings, hu will Iw 

made 



I 



The Platonic DuUogues, 



311 



' maili? nwnre of a continuity of growth jiervndtng them, ns Iibj 
jM-rffivcs the germs of lator tlimi;^]ils ;i|i|Miiri»t; i"i tht- farlitnr' 
(Jinloguf^: iborjries stated tiniUUivi-ly and icliauuishi'd, %\Iu(.'li an* 
afterwards nccepted when put ditferently ; tlie same idea appe.iring 
at one tunc in a mythical, at another time in a severer, form ; 
while somi'tijnes, what Iias been in one place worked out with 
strict dialec--tic(d exactness, seems in a later ptufsuge to l>c weak- 
ened or softened dtjwn. And thus an intention or tendenry may^ 
often be quite fairly deduced from the rum|Kiri»on of other dla-' 
lo^es, which is hy no means evident on the surface of a particular 
writing. No analysis ol I'lato can be searching;, no account of 
him can be a<lcquaec, which omits these plain facts. It Is pos- 
sible to assltirn to Plato notions wliich arc foreiji^n to him ; it is 
possible, ui tivating him as u i>1itlu»>plu'r, to forget tbat he is a 
dianiatist anil pot>t ; — to dniw a sorl of bust of him instead of the 
full-longlli fij^^re. Uut it is no less a fault to give u& the limbs 
without tlic head, or the body without the inspiring souL In 
nvoiding the error of imagining an itieal Plato, Dr. Whewell lias 
fallen into the opposite extreme. He has diiicarded the help uf 
imagination, aud his Plato is sometimes a very mntter-of-fact 
jMTsoii indeed. 

The little dialogue which bears the name of 'Lysis ' or 'On 
Frieixlshtp ' aHords a good illustration of our meaning. Hits 
Dr. Whewell regards *m a scries of puzzles, fitted well enough 
to exercise Uie intellect of boys, and, o( men in tlie infancy of 
speeidatinn, and employed mainly for that purp»>se by Plalo.' 
It is true that the scene of tlie ctmvei-satton is a hoys' schixil, and 
tJiat the only actual interWutors beaides Socrates arc boys ; and 
I>r. >Vhewell has very happily rendered tlie playful manner in 
which Socrates {yraifytv irpo^ tieipaxia *) insinuates himself into 
the good graces of the iMiyish mind. But arc wc to suppose that 
he has no object bevond bis own amusement in doing tliis? 
May he not he at the same time insinuating some true lessun? 

* Latighing, to teach the truth 
Wliat hinders?' 

Or is his main pur]>ose simply to pnzzic them? And is it a 
matter of iudiflerencc to Plato in what direction they am 'set 
a-thinking'? Before accepting such a conchision, it would Ijc 
prudent to comjtare tiie ' Symposium,' in which a cogiwtu 
subject (l^>ve) is treated more fully and with undoubted earnest- 
ness. Ihfre we find urveral of the hints thrown out in the 
'Lysis' canrfully elalKirated. Thus the suggesUon that 'what il 
neither gijod nor evil loves the good, because of tlic presence of] 



• plM.*Ttiwrt..'p. les. 




evil 



7%$ Platmie Dialogues. 



evil in iUoir'* is pamllelcd by tbf» tliouglii tlint *Lotc !■ 
neither wise nor unwise-, noitlior .1 Ciod iiur ti mortal, ocitber 
rich Dor utterly poor ; yei that \\v. has alwnvs n w.int accom- 
panying him : that he is the son of lnveiiti<»i and I'ovi'riy.' t 
The vnguf notion of an Absolute RTonml of FriCTnUhip {-ffpSiiTov 
<^iKov) X is more distinctly sot fortb in the ' Syin{>osiun) * as Ab- 
sfjlute Bfiiuty {aino KaKov)^ \ nnd ita relation to pftrticular objects 
iS flimilnrlv (tescrilxHl : while the niiticimtion with whieli thn 
'Lysis' cl<)»?s, thnt tlie ground of FrieiiUsbip is that M'hich is at 
unce (*ootl and Proper to the person aiming at it {uriaBov koX 
oi'x^Zai/),! is strikinglv confirmed by ttit- ductrinc of Diutima, that 
the real aim of Love isthat the Beautiful should he realized as our 
own. II This last thought, as Dr. WhewotI himself remarks, 
lieccmips the centre of Aristotle's deeply phihfsopliical Analysis of 
l-Viemlsldp," in which oilier questions nJsed in tJie ' Lysis' are 
also nuticed ; such as, * whether friendship is always mutual, ami 
whether it arises aatumlly between similar ur opposite characten?' 
Hence it is not unreasonable to think that real difficulties may 
lie at the root of these, which Dr, WhewcU considers merely 
verlml qaestinns. To the Oreek philosophers, nt all rrents, they 
were not merely verlrnl. And, gntlK^riri;; Ijoldness In tin* face of 
these analogies, we venture to ask, whctluT fc^Krates' advice (o 
Hippothales at the opening tt is not intended to convey the im- 
pression that truth is Uic reid ground of love, and hence that the true 
way to conciliate love in another is to awaken in htm tlie lovc! 4if 
Irutli. I-aslly, when we rememlter how closely allietl in Plato's 
' mind were the ideas of love and friendship ('representeil here by 
thf! two friends of Lvsis. Hipp<}t]iales an<l Menexcnus), and that 
love was to him the symbol uf ttie highest pldlosnphy, we shall n>ft 
l»e startled if we find this boyish discussion of a boyish affection' 
running up into such questitms as 'What would be the caae if 
evil were done away? Would there then be no desire?' JJ Tluit 
is not a merelv childish discourse, though it might well be sug- 
gested by the question of a child, in which we find such words 
as tlicsc: 

'Toll mo, I boBOCch yon, suppomng Evil weni dostroycd, wooltl 
then tiieu bo do more huigering, nor thirfiting, nor any Buch thiii({ ; 
ur would tiitnu still Iw bnngor, as a condition of Uiu imiimd &iuiil', yut 
60 ifl to do it no harm ; and thirst also, oud tho ulbcr doBirctt, only 
with no touch of cril, acoing that tliu Evil Natoro n'sa dcctrojed 't Or 



I 



I 
* 

i 



■Lys,'p.5l7. 



t '^-mp-,' p. S03. 

,' K Is. ft P. Slo. 

XX Compare * TbcntV P< KCt ^a oCrt iiMohiatm fi kojA twarir, & e«M«v«. 



'SriDp^' p. 2tl. 

' Ar. Kth. N.,' 



1 'I^/p-STg. 
1 •Synip.,' p.SOi. 



Tla PJaUmia Dialogues. 313 

is it not rathor Tain to ask what wotild happen or not happen then, for 

who can toll ?• * 

We conclude, therefore, that the hypotheses of the ' Lysis * 
were cither seriously put forth by Plato before his own thought 
on the subject was fully matured, or were seriously intended by 
him to lead the mind of his reader a few steps in the direction 
which his own more advanced speculations had taken. The fact 
that boys are the interlocutors rather favours the latter view ; that 
he is intentionally leading us only part of the way, as children 
may be lifted to catch a momentary glimpse of some pageant 
which they are not allowed to follow. And it deserves to be 
remarked in confirmation of this, that the hypothesis already men- 
tioned — that the indifferent loves the good because of the pre- 
sence of some evil — though it is relinquished because of the 
difficulties surrounding the mutual relations of good and evil in 
the world, is not expressly and finally set aside. 

This instance may sufHce to indicate the importance of com- 
paring Plato with himself. But to be fully understood he must 
be studied with reference to the whole history of the Greek 
mind. Dr. Whewell is not insensible to this necessity ; but it 
is a point on which the Historian of the Inductive Sciences 
might have rendered more valuable assistance than we have met 
with in these volumes. 

The age of Socrates and of Plato has features peculiar to itself 
— it is the culminating point of the Greek intellect ; but it may 
be regarded as typical of every age in which intellectual move- 
ments have predominated. And a clear likeness of it is preserved 
for us in Plato's writings. It had been preceded by a long 
transition period, in which the Greek was no longer a child, but 
a growing boy ; and when the state, mirrored in the Homeric 
poems, in which everything in and around the life of man was 
met with an awestruck, yet loving and familiar reverence, no 
longer occupied the whole mind of the people, but had retired 
to the inner chambers of memory, still reaily to awake at the 
touch of the poet into more than imaginary being. Even with the 
poetical forms, the beginnings of philosophy were ere long in- 
woven. The fine sense of harmony and proportion inherent in 
the Greek race was puzzled in comparing past and present, 
elements of liberty and of order, the Fates and Justice, positive 
and unwritten law. The * Prometheus ' of J^schylus, and the 
' Antigone ' of Sophocles, had a deeper than the merely poetical 
interest. Moral reflections, like those of Pindar and Thucydides, 
began to insert themselves beneath the pictures of Olympus, 

* P. 220. 



S14 77a PlaUmic Dialot/ms. 

Mid to wpplnnl tlip fear of the Divine jpalousy. The jM>1itical 
history of Atluns liad piven sco]>e for the ilisplay of the highest 
public qualities, and the exigencies of tlie state bad l)ocD a sarer 
guide to Tbcmistoclcs and I'ericlcs than the example, which 
sccmeil to animate them, of the heroes of old. The lan--<x»urts 
were training ever)' citizen in the arts of disputntitm. 'llic 
more ambitious longed for the power of oratory to sway the 
Demos. Meanwhile, an ideal philosophy had arisen, and came 
inljj contact with tliis eager, mobile atmosphere of awakened in- 
telligence. Thus i'ericles strengthened his mind with tlie 
convene of Anaxagoras. And while the true meaning of the 
earliest thinkers passrnl over the heads of their contemporaries, 
and wandered, a mere bodiless creation, until it found liarmonious 
ulteranct- through the mind of Plato, their wonls were eagerly 
caught up and applied. Hence philosophy stood in danger of 
being Tuigarizcd, through being turned to popular use». The 
lofty speculation of Parmeuides in the form of the Zenonian logic 
was tmnsrormed into a mere gymnastic of the brain, a jiarailuxical 
mi*ans of pulling the world to pieces, and of binding last the 
spirit of inquiry. 'HiC! scarcely less exalte*] tlietiry of Heraclitus 
became the occasion of thr; mcn>!y subjective doctrine of Prota- 
gt)ni5, which threatened to make men indiflcrcnt to absolute tnilh. 
The singular attitude presented by Socrates was the only means 
of rescuing the world tVoin this result. It was the reverse of 
dogmatism, yet it was not tlie attitude of scepticism but of 
inquiry. Two things are implied in this ; * tlie Indicf that there 
'is an absolute and universal tnitli, and the consciousness tliat wc 
do not possess it. Socrates further assumed that if there is an 
absolute truth, it is applicable in the form of good to everything 
in human life ; and that to learn somethbig of it by self-qu<?stion- 
ing is not only jMissilile, but n duty absolutely tuniling. The 
lesson which he taught, tliough it stood in the closest relation to 
the contemporary phase of the (inn-k mind, and became the key 
to its iiiturprctaticn, was yet jierfcctly independent of the theories 
of other men. He is one of those heroic figures who liave lived 
ill Uieir age but wen* not of it ; who liave made an iuiprrssioo 
on mankind ineomjiarably greater than any which they can 
have received. He did nnt fable when lie claimed a Divine 
mission. To him we owe the faitli, where it is still found, that 
tTutli is one, that the same thing cannot be true and false, tliat 
what is true camiol I>p separated from what is goo*l. Hud 
Socrates not lived, is it tiNi much to say that the * marvels of 

* See Bomc remnrlu on Dueuttt, in Mr, Maurice's uew volome on the ' Ilia- 
torf of Philosopliy/ p. i'j&. 

modem 



I 



The Fiatotiic Dialogwi. 



315 



mndrrn scicnco ' would imvo Iiron im{M>ivsihlc ? * He was the fint 
who |iur<iuifl kiiowlrdp- as .1 rc<1l|;ioiis ilutv, nnd sacntice<l his 
lifr to truUu Ho laiil Hio. rouiidtiUoD-Btoiir of sclrncp in \tiin, ol' 
which It was reserveil fur our own llacori to plan* tlm romcr-stone 
in Nature, ilu alunu in Ids day &uw clearly tlial bcl'on- wi> am 
icason accurately concerning anything;, wa must first know by 
inquiry. What it is,' In an age and country whore all theories 
wi?n- recL'ivpd, but none were roilly sjlK^d ; when men wore 
ainusttl nidti-r than disturki.-d by intidlcetual and logical ditft- 
cultics; when tliey could laugh at representations of je^kIs and 
heroes, and yet were jianic-btricken by any violence done to 
their traditional superstitions ; when success was worshipped, 
and dogmas never known as principira wi-re in the mouths 
of Inwynrs nnr) publit: nit'ii ; in nii ngi,> whtin poetry and oratory 
^fl^•tl^ liunimn-41 and studied but not yet really aiialvstHl and 
undersbMMt, ihcnr was one man whose rye piercril through and 
through the buily of the time. That man was Socrates. His 
ironical speech to ihe Athenians really expresses all : ' 1 know 
nothing ; but others seem to know : I And that they also arc really 
igiinraiit ; but I know that I know nothing : thrrerurr tlir Deity 
luu pronouneed uie wise.' \\c is the first who brought the 
st;in<lartl of absolute knowledge to bear upon the individual 
mind ; by self-reflection upon his own, and then by inductive 
questioning ujwn the minds of others. He seemed to them the 
cause of their pcrplexlt)' ; but really he only revealed to them, by 
tlie light of rranin, tlie confusion iii whteh tlieir thoughts still 
lay. (S(i Plato makes him say to Kuthyjdiro, * It is not 1 tliat 
make? the argument to move in a circle, but you.') * • 

The method of Socrates seemed the ilestruction of all in which 
men lived and moved, of that beautiful poetry which wai ensbrincd 
in the hearts of the [>cople, of tlie sbitesmanship which had wun 
oiu) secun^d their liberties, of die oratory which was the mouthpiece 
aiwl npjinn'nt manispring of the national will ;of the mythology in 
whiirh, its in an opal casket, the secret of their social and religious 
life lay hid. It was in rtalitv the creation of a new principle, 
which should give to each of these elements of Atltcnian life an 
ideal significance, and should, unlike them, siK>ak directly and 
Willi immeiliate power not to the Atlienians only, but to ilur men of 
intellect dirougbout the world. A contrast is sometimes drawn 
between the sense of discord and confusion, die distraction ami 
agony of the soul, which is the forenmner of religious peace, and 
the ' harmony widi Nature ' In which Philosophy is sup|m»eil to 
rest. But it is not less true that tlierc is a parallel between the 



• * Eutbypbr.,' p. 1S> 



dissolution 



S16 ^|B The Platonic DiaioffUCJt. 

dissolution nf the old elements of ititcllectnnl life, the ftestrurcioa 
i)f a])|)cnninpes in nhieh tlie mind rpposcd, the bronkin^ up of 
enomin^ foundntiuns, which nre Hie lirst-fruits of the spirit nf 
inquiry', and the isol.-ttion of tht; iiulindiial from the worlds (be 
Bepjiraliun of the fU'sh and spiilt, which arc the fon'tastc of the 
experience of the Christian. And while the work of Socrates 
Appeared tlie <tcath-strokc of alt confidence in traditional teaching;, 
and in thf pt)wcrs of the mind itself, it wns really inspire<l with 
a deep and sober faith ; the belief that Truth exists for man, anil 
that DC is able, if not at once to grasp it, ^et tu aim at it not 
without a sure hope. 

The object of this faith, to which Socrates clung so firmly 
that he died rather than relinquish it or hide it from mankind 
— diffcrcfl from the 'universal reason' of HeraclitOB, and 
the * universal Deitj' of Xenophanes (1), in that, while the 
sole object of true knowleilge, it was reganled as for the present 
unknown, and (S), in being not merely a s]ieculative, but also a 
prni-ticnl principle. And this in two ways, both as it must be 
found applicable to cvorythinff in human life, ami as the search 
for it with a view to practice was bis one cndravonr. 1 
/in&to not what anything ?'.«, till I have found an account of it 
which is vniveraally true.' The exemplification of this maxim 
in fomiliar Instances was Socrates' life. !f it does not seem a 
great thing to die for, then no principle is worth sup\»orting, fin- 
it is this which give* to every true principle its value. It lit-a 
at the root of philosophy and of all science, and gives the Imix? 
of a secure foundation ti> morality. No one had so brought 
the ' dry light * of n-ason, without any inten'ening haze of 
speculative imagination, into immediate contact with the nptnion* 
anil jwactices of men. When he said Virtue is knowledge, he 
meant that virtue, if it is to stand firm, must be bnsi*d on prin- 
ciple, and not on custom, education, and tradition ; nitd that 
hence a * science of ethics ' was necessary as a guide to men. 

Plato received the Socratic spirit of inquiry into a mind which 
Iweame also filled with all the literature and science and all the 
speculative theories then extant. As Dr. Whewcll remarks 
(though be attaches more importance to the eireumstonn- tlian 
seems quite necessary), he foumi an illustration of the certainty 
which his mnsl<T sought for in the definitions of geometry. He 
applied the 'questioning methtKl' not miTely, as Socrates had 
done, to the confulatiou and <{uiekfntng of individual mind^ 
hut more generally lo the refutation or dirvelopment of durtrinei, 
— physical and metaphysical, ns well as political and mora]. 
Moi-eover the method itself grew under his hands into a theory 
of rodliod, which was at the same time a philosophy of knowing 

and 



I 
I 



4 



I 



Tfie Plaionic Dialitf/tu*. 



317 



and bcinf;. Thiu Plato's mliul may be regarded as tliat of 
S(*cratcs idealized and ]>rojrctcd upon the earlier and contrin- 
porary plulosophic*, revealing their forms, but also searching 
tbeni v/ith a light not their own, and weaving' them anew Into a 
Jiving and Imrmonious symbol of tJjP universe, and a true record 
of the Laws I of Mind. In this process the Socratie method of 
ijuesiiouing is generalijscd, and its first eiTcct is to reduce the im- 
pressions of the senses and of common opinion from appearing 
fixed, and stable, and absolute, to appcor unfixed and (luctunting, 
and merely relative to the individual. In so far it run* parallel to 
the Hcraclitean doctrine of chiinge^ and to the maxun of Pn>ta- 
goras, * Each man the measure of what is to him.' * As Dicdalus 
made his images to move of their own accord, so Socrates gives 
wings to the opinions of men.' But then he does so in the act of 
pressing forwards tnwartla an absolute standard. A tKiaitireaim 
IS ever combine*! with the dc»tructivc method. This goal oi 
Truth towards which thtf upward face of the Platonic Socrates is 
directed, was linked by Plato with the Eleatic Being. But tliis 
One Being is with him, ns it had been with Socrates, no tnire 
abstraction, 'dovcliijird out of nmsciousueu ' in the attempt to 
scale the universe at a hound — it is ' tlic real ' in cvcrytluufr, to 
&v SxacTOf, tlie true ground of its nature. Each thing in its uni- 
versal a*|>cct is a part of Being. Tlic highest intellectual effort 
is the endeavour to grasp this universal reality, so as lo recognise 
its traces everywhere.* 

Now Socrates had spoken of the One Eternal Principle as the 
good and lieautiful ; and Plato further S]>eaks of the iinpulio of 
the soul which seeks for it as tlio essence of love. But we can- 
not be in love with a lifeless, har<I perfection ; we cannot believe 
that the object of our highest ospimtions is without energy ami 
thought. Henee the Eleatic theory is unsatisfying until we have 
inlorwoven with it the Ileraclilean in a higher form. The abso- 
lute contains the relative under it. Tlie abstract Incomes con- 
crete when it is rl(*arly seen. For the good, and iH-nutil'ul, and 
real, nrc distinct, an<) stand in relations to each other : even * that 
which is ' cannot be conceived of as existing, unless contmdis- 
tinguished from that which U not, and at the same time em- 
liraejng it Thus tlie unreal has a kind of reality imparted to 
it That which Itas not absolute reality, in a manner is. 
Innunu-nd)le things exiat, no one of wluch is identical with 
absolute being. Fnuu this point Philosophy ceases In Iw mrn-ly 
nbstmct : the strife Ijetween reason and the world is partly recon- 
ciled by Imagining a state in which opinion shall bo ruled by 



knowledge, 



* 



ktMJwIrdgn, nnil nppfnmnci-s shall be eoneeircd of liArnimiioiitl 
willi ri-alitv. Ami ui this e/Tort tn pivc pmportion, and jwiwcr, 
and lifn to tlic idt-as, Plnio'g imagination is greatly a&sislcd Uy ' 
llio Hythagorean ' Harmony.' ^M 

Such, very brielly, and leaving out of view His more decidedly ^^ 
polemical aspect, is the mere outliiio of tlie development of 
Plato's mind. Three elements are throughout perceptible: — 
(1) the philosopliical Impulsi', ideulized as Jiros, Lt»ve ; (2) the 
aiialylieal and inductive methcMl whlcli accompanies ihis {tiiij-rrsU 
and xi/nar/ot/e) ; (3) the gojil ol' the impulse ami end of the nieitHid, 
the form, not yet seen but loved, of Absolute and Universal 
Goodness and Beauty, iviiich alone is real. The Erotic sym* 
holism prevails in some dialogues, dialectical and scirntilic 
keemiess preilominates in olliers ; some dwell inore upon metitnl 
pnKcsses and the powers of the soul, and some on the eternal 
objects of Mind. JJut each of the three strands is present, oven 
when comparatively little seen. 

And they arc often hidden by tho*nchness of their coveriii|v. 
For Plato's inith isdyed in beauty — his pliilosophy is evcrcl<ith«l 
witli jtoetry, dramatic, ililliyrnndjif, epic. I'he Klcui'lnis of 
Socrmtes in bin hands becomes a series of melodntuas. His 
Sucmtes is not the spirit of dialectical ironv and enthusiasm |H*r- 
sonified, hut the most polite, provoking, pertinacious, charming 
|>crson. HimsclJ' in love with the Universal 13cauty, and finding 
traces of it hi the fair youths who come to him, lie really imparts 
of it to them, and fixes their aHi-'ctioiis by destroying their etmcnit 
of knowing somelhlng. And there are passages in wliich some 
.aspect of tiic liigliRst life is inythtrally Mrt forth, as in the ' Plia-- 
flrus,' in which the glowing zeal of a religious pbtlnsoph\ exercises 
over languajfc a creative |>ower greater than that of ^ischvlus or 
Pindar. Again, in the great dialogues, as in the ' Kc|Miblic,' the 
iuti^Tcst is hardly less sustained than in the Odyssee, whih' tliought 
rises aboi'e thought, in an apparently careless order, yet one 
which, in its chief points, ceruiiidy cimmjl be inverted without 
iloing injury to the dTect of the whole. So little can any merely 
logit'nj or metaphysical analysis do justice to the genius of I'tatrh 

Vet, great artist as he is, his thonght frequently outruns the 
expression of it. There are deep rellectioiis anil subtle oLserva- 
tions, sometimes c-asually introduced, sometimes inJinfctly hinted 
at, in the midst of a seemingly v«rKiI argument, which we- feel 
to be of more lasting value than that of wliich they niT the 
(imaments; gems, uhose setting was not yet ready, picked ap 
by tin- way, and given to aftiT ages for a prize. 

His humour, on tlm other hand, pervades the whole, and is 
hardly absent even from the gravest paseagrs, . It is closely allied 

t(» 



4 




TJte Platonic Diaicffms. 



319 



to the vividness of liis imagination. His keen rt'alization of the 
'windy ways of men* adds a jMiint to bis penHiption of the wrak- 
ncss of evil and falsehood which notliing' else could give ; and the 
most intritaic discussions arc not only relieved but enlivened by 
the spirit of fun. 

We must retrarc our steps to consider Plato's controversial 
•ide. The war with the * Sophists.' was only a |iort of his lifo- 
Inag effort to refute and briji^f under everything which seemetl 
inconsistent witli the spirit of philosophy. His quarrel with 
tliem was certainly not more deadiv than with the politici.tns and 
lawj'PFS, and the popular asscmblirs of his time. He argues 
more with thenif because their pretensions give him more hold ; 
but, as has been frequently remarked with referencf? to Prota- 
goras, he by no means treats the greatest of them with unmea- 
sured ajntcmpt. His irony is rather levelled at the state of the 
world itself than at the men who guided itj and while be warns 
ihrsn fn>m the sat-red precincts of philosophy, it does not appear 
tliat he would deny to them tlie utility which they lay claim to 
in their own Rphere. Protagoras at least is further n^anh-il by 
liim as the author of a theor)* which must l)e examined by 
all who would grasp the idea of knowledge. 

Mr. Grote, as an historian, has been naturally anxious to 
mscue from misconception every integral part of Athenian 
soriety, and has sought tn vindicate these men from Oic iinniixr'd 
blante which Plato's commnntatirrs had thought it ri^ht to lay 
upon them. He has given us a true and life-like description of 
their activity, for which every student of Greek life must feel 
indebted to him. But while frankly accepting bis nc«»imt of 
what they were in relation to their age anti country, wn still frvl 
tliat Platit's view i)f them in relation to S<icnitr>s and to pbilo* 
Sophy is subsLuitially concct. 'i'hev were the accepte*! teachers of 
their time. But the philosophers of any period are seldom its 
accepted tearhers. They supplied a temporary want, which 
Socrates and Plato prubably coulil not or would not have supplied ; 
they were many uf them wise in their generation and for it; 
they did some serviw in special fields of scicnt* ; they hc1|)cd 
to keep thought alive, and were In various degrees the representa- 
tives of a necessary phase nf the human mind, that in which uld 
beliefs are giving way, and men, satisfied witli the eimsciousness 
of inlelleetual enciyy, are mil yet awanr of the need of a firm 
standtng-gmund. But they may not the less have been a grievous 
hindrance in the n-ay of those w*ho strove to awaken a belief 
in Truth .is an Eternal UnclL-ingcable Reality ; who required the 
confession of ignorance in those who came to tbcm. The exini- 
ncnts of |)opular ideas by on essentially popular method ; winning 
, Vol. 112. — No, Si4, T -reverence 



320 The PkUonie DiakgvM. ■ 

reverence hy the assumption of aathoritj, they may doubtlest 
have been fit educatmrs for ' boys and for men id the infancy of 
speculation,' but thej were apt to prolong the boyhood of Ae 
human reason, and to check and stunt the ^wth of calm con- 
templative wisdom amongst men. We can conceive of an ideal 
state in which the philosopher and the ruler, the divine and the 
public speaker, shall each hare recognised the other's functioi^ 
and shall be willing to work in harmony. But that consumma- 
tion has not yet been realized, and it was very far from being 
realized in Athens. Nor is Greece the only country in whidi 
the spread of truth has been impeded by * theories springing- up 
spontaneously,* * by the men of action using their influence to 
counteract the men of thought^ by the confusion of facts with 
principles, of the ideal with the actual, by the weight of moral 
obligation being attributed to traditional or conventional notions^ 
or to the fancies of individuals. 

We cannot agree with Dr. Wh^well that a counterpart of 
Plato's battle with the Sophists is to be found in the contrast 
existing between such men as Coleridge and Ixwke, each of 
whom has exercised a direct influence extending far beyond his 
contemporaries. We are much more disposed to amuiesce in 
the account which he has incidentally given us of me * Anti- 
Sophist' Dialogues, as those 'which are employed in urging the 
claims of Truth and Philosophy against Rhetoric and Political 
Success.' t Only we should be inclined to add that many of 
them arc at the same time busied with the solution of real diffi- 
culties; an important step, as Aristotle is fond of obser^'ing, in 
th<* elaboration of Truth. 

Plato's philosophy, like that of Socrates, was not merely a 
s[i(>cu]ution, but a life. There is a profound under-current of 
moral conviction, felt most distinctly perhaps in tbe Republic 
and Phaedo, but discernible in all the (Halogucs, even when they 
seem to approach opposite phases of thought. The death of 
Socrates is always in the background, and gives a significant 
depth to the whole colouring. This of itself makes an essential 
<Ufference lietween Plato and such men as Prodicus and Hip- 
pias, — though it is not denied that they assisted to uphold 
momlity. 

If then; is truth in the preceding remarks, there are two bonds 
of 'connexion,' besides the simply Socratic influence, which gi*^ 
coherence and hannony to Plato's various writings : the unity of 
a more or less continuous speculative development, and the 

• aiiTifiaTOi i^vo/^iovrta. 'Theiot,' p. 181. 
t In hiB * Hemarki an the Giergias.' 

Ititl 



Tits Platonic Dialogues. 



321 



I 



I 



still more unbroken unity of an nnrelinquishctt practical aim ; 
and the first of these helps to part as well as to unite. Out' 
fwling of this unity is in some danger of being impaired In* ib« 
sharpness of l)r, Wliewcll's division, when he distin^ishrs 
between the Oialo;|ru(» of tlie Socratic ftchool, thf * Anti-Sophist' 
Hialo^cs (in which Socrates is engaj^cd in perplexing', refuting, 
and ulencing *■ persons who have been called Sophists by PIntn 
nr by his commentators '}, and the constructive Dialo^es. If thn 
term ' conlmveraial ' were substituted for 'Anti-Sophist,' the 
ibrec sectidiis mi^'ht W nllowetl to indicate, though Himrwhat 
roughly, iJiTc-e successive phases in Plata's litrrarv rarwr, A 
place mif ht then be found for some pieces Hike the Then>tetus) in 
which doctrines other than * sophistical ' arc combated. But it 
fthouM not be forgotten that Plato's first thoughts contain the 
gtrrin of his later productions, and that everj' controversy is mailc 
subservient by him to the one aim (if finding Truth. He it 
always pressintr forwards, ^ven where his work M*m8 purely 
dicstruc.tive. The Lysis is not a merely Socratic dialogue ; ami 
the Plupilnis is very far from being merely ' Anti-Sophist.' 

The reader wIm» has accompanied us sn far is thcrcloRr perliaps 
prepared to aiviuiesro in a slight mmlificntinn of ])r. Whowell's 
arrangement, which we now pnipiree, not attempting, however, 
to deteriniiu! tliu exact rhmntdngiral tinier. 

I. We agree with him in placing first those dialogues in which 
Socmtic qtiestinns arc treated in gometliing approaching to die 

Imn-Iy Socratic manner. Such are the Liiciies, Cluirrnides, 
Cuthyphro, Ion, antl Orpat«"r Ilipptss. The Apology ami Critu 
would niso hi* ini;Iu(liHl in this first series, and they would lie 
f(>IIowt>d, alW a slight iiit«!rval, by those which, while tlicy con- 
tain more of Plato's mind, avti still chieily occupied with ques- 
tions raised by Socrates. Such arc the Protagoras and Mrno. 

II. A second class, which may admit of t'lirtlii-r snbili vision, 
cimtains the dialogiws in which Plato's own jihiliKopliy is being 
tlcvehi|M-'d ill various aspects and in relation to different forms of 
thought The I'ha-drus may be regarded as the preface to this 
miscellanr, which will include, Wsides some important dia- 
higues which Dr. VVbcwell rejects, the Lvis, Syriip<;sinin, fJor- 
ginji, 'nirirtrtus. C'ratylus, Phih-hus, and i^luedo. 

III. 'Hie Ilirpublie may bo ^lluwed to stand by itself, a* the 
royal dialogue. ** 

IV. The Timanu and Critias, followed at some distnncc br the 
Laws, represent a still later phase of Plato's mind, which, thongh 
most inieresttng; is not in all respccta an advnnre oil what 
[irecedes. 

r% la 



zn 




Tfte Phtmie Dialo^ua. 



s ■ 



In tliis clauiflcation ^hexe is no difficulty in plaring all iha, 
more important dial<^ne9. Thc-rc arc some sli^Iitrr pjn 
ttliicb ma}' also \k referred, without much Iroublc, ti> <uif < 
other of these four heads. Tlius the Menexenns mi^ht nalurall 
bo bound up with the first scries, and the tluthydemus with 
scrond. 

Id what follows, we propose to dwell at some lenjrth, in tl 
(irder thus briefly liidirated, on some of the greater dlalngui- 
with the view of bringing oat more fully the characteristic foiitu 
of the Phitimic phih^sophy. 

I. The i'rotaj^nis is one of the most charming- of Plato'j 
<li.-ilo;;ue« ; the chnrm arising partly from the dramatic liveline 
with which the characters are diawn, and portly from the mtxtu 
of ironical and real respect with which Protn^rns himself a 
treated by SfJcratcs. Evcrv reader must have smiletl ovnr 
th'scription of die humble suite whom the grral 'Sojihist' 
drawn, like Oqjheus, by his voire, out of all the cities which he 
had viaiti?<l, and at their comically respectful air ; and there is a 
pleasure, independent of the progress of the argument, in read" 
the fable of Prometheus and his lwother,and the graphic orco 
of the nnlinary education of a Greek. But when we [wt do 
the IhiuIi, the question rises, What was Plain's aim in writing 
whole? Dr. VvTicwcIl says: — 

* In its point of view Uic tlialogno ugtoea w!tli Iho dialognu of tiw 
Soorstte school. Tho arguments arc nearly the samo as tiioso in Iho 
lAchea, Charmidcfl, a»r] Mouo. Hut on object of no last impurinwo 
than the nvjml ar^romcnts it tho aaaertion of tho sniiertor TaJuo of tho 
Boeratie mutliud of soaking traths over tho proralcnt tnodee of jtrah 
aurial diBBortiition and oommontatorial disenasion of tho pfKits.' 

'I'his is hardly enough. For it raises tlii- further question*, 
*hat relation do the moral arguments of Socrates stand to ih«' 
of Protngoros? ami, What is intended to be the upshot of the d 
Luniun? Is there any c()nncxion bet^veen the nu-tlwx! of Social 
and die notions vtliich he advances? And arc we tr> supj 
that the dialogue as a whole has any positive menning over 
alwTc its (•mvrrsntional .ind dramatic interest? On these poinu 
we arc not left merely to conjecture. The comparison of I 
Meno, and of the generai spirit of Plato's writings, comes 
our aid. 

The teaching of tlie Meno is that the ordinary virtue, which 
deservedly praised in tlie world, <loes not spring from knowl 
and accordingly cannot \tr taught. It must be attributed tu 
sort of iospiraiio:!, or divine instinct. Bui, 'If there were 

virtuuiis 




1 

4 



Tfie Platonic Dialogtte*. 



323 



I 
I 



virtuoul man who could teach virtue, bn would be tike Tiretins 
amongst the shndca, alone intelligent and substantial/ — SurTrep 
•rrapii aKiAi; aXijdh; &i> wpayfia ttj) Trpo? dpeitjv. This saying 
jmt« into uiir lianils the kry t'» the Protagoras. It clears uj» tLe 
apparent !iiciinsisti>nr*y of ilcnvin^ tliat virtue vnn lie tnuglit, 
while maintain iiijj: tliat it is ideiitlral >vitli knuwlinl^e; and 
tliows the relerancy of the ' commentatorial discus&ion ' of 
Simonidos to the question abomt the unity of Virtue. 

Tlic virtue of tlie statesmen and men of the world who are 
|ioiiitof) at in the Mrno, is tlie samr virtue wliieli ProCagnms and 
the otlier S<jphists ]in)fessed to tearli : the virtue wliieli is de- 
pendent upon education, and custom, and sucial exij^eucics, wliich 
is indi-ed multiform, bceause not consciously dcrivrd from the 
contemplation of truth and good, which may approximate by 
Vflirious dejfrecs to the standanl of gotMlness, but has no tibsolutc 
pvuud of reality witliin itstdf. Plato is h^re in die- prrsem;<? of 
an intellectual diflieulty, which he gmpjiles with in (rarnr-st, yet 
all the while despises in heart. The Uelativc and the Abs4)lute 
view of things which we shall fmd aftenvards conflicting in the 
region of inetajjh^'sical speculation, are now doing battle in a 
more palpable form in the sphere of moral inquiry ; the subjective 
'process here asserts itself not in the universe nor in tlie 
mind, but as a theory of virtue ; essential diversity is held 
as a principle; degi-ees of approximation arc laying claim to 
exact scientific truth. Plato fully felt the strength of this 
sceptical jwisltion. niul in tlie ' Protagoras ' he brings it inlu the 
clearest possible light, with the confidence of one who sees a 
reality beyond, which will eclipse its brilliance. Two reHections 
seem to underlie the saying that * Virtue is not taught.' First, 
that virtue is not a Miniitcti profession' like the arts, but more 
difficult to gmsp in thought, Iwcausc it emhrnces the whole of 
human life; and sreomlly, that what men rail virtue is only an 
tnciimplete and shadowy phase of a thing, which is unstable ami 
infirm till it is )ia&<-<l on philosophy. 

The difference between Protagoras and fSocratcs about virtue, is 
parallel to the diflerenee Iwiween their theories of knowing ami 
Ireiiig. Prntagnms says virtue is iliverse and can be tauglit ; 
Socrates, if it is diverse, it cannot bi* taught, but it is one, and 
tlien* must lie a science t>( It, though that has JKit yet lM>en found. 
'llie result pointed at is tliat there is a higher idea of virtue ilinn 
the COD temporaries of Socrates had conceived, an absolute prin- 
ciple whieli, if it could be once known, would be the guido of 
life. Simonides is interjjrcteil so as to Inrit that, whnti-ver 
tipproximatian might l>e made under existing methods, tlic rvuiittf 

of 



Thi Platonic Diah^tn. 



of virtue could not \» an nttaiaod. The ordinmsy bDVftD boag 

may Ae Itcamiimj vlrtuims, but he cannot /« so.* 

Thu ivalitv of the lonrr excellence is not tlcniMl, thoa^ a 
diflicultv is felt iu accounting fur its existence. 'Go tunoagst 
barbariiins,' Protagoras is made to say, *and you will find wnt 
mnral culturt' has done for fireeco. The reco^ition of hanna 
claims (aiSa>7 kcu htKr}) is, like the air we hreatbc, an imlinct 
civilizo<lhuiiianiuiture.' A niche fortbis 'mural cuUare,'asdt 
Irora philosophical training, is afterwards found tn thr Kcpabli 
In the mean time, the power of rhetoric, and the plaim^ 
tcnrKing of the wlativo or subjective thcorj,t "nd the rlaitns 
onlinary respectability, as well as those of exalted pa!>!ic raeri 
arc vividly rcprcM-nted and clearly acknowledged, whiir U\ il: 
(lilfnt contrast of an ideal standard they are cn-eiljome. 
the conflict between philosophy and common opinion is at i 
heii^ht, wcare made to feel the force of common opinion. I*h««' 
dramatic (Fcnius is active in giving shape to that whicfa it is tbt 
nim of hJH jtiiil'raophv to destroy.^ 

II. Already, in the ' Ui-cnllrctiim ' tlieorj' (put forth in answer 
to Menu's question, 'Ilntv will vou inquire almut what voa flo 
not kjiow?*), and possibly^ also in the criticism of Simonides, 
Plato has ov<T»tcpped tlie limits of mere Socrstic converse. A 
further stage is rcache<l, hi>wever, when he takes up the clementt 
nf other philosophies into that of Socrates, and ixgins to devrIo[W 
ihnt whifh is peculiar to himself; at oiicr rcflectinu upon hi»' 
own previous llioufrhts and taking a wider suney of the ttioughts 
III' others. The subject uf bis sjteeulatiun beeimies now more 
abatnict and gcuL-ral— not 'Is virtue knowledge?' but *\Vhat " 
knowledge?* Not 'Is virtue absolutely one?' but 'Whni can 
Iw discovered about absolute nnd n-tative being, tlie one and the 
many?' Not merely, •!» pleasure the giKxl?* but 'What is 
th^ highest good?* At the same time the Dialectical methtidj 
Itself nnd tlie philosophical impulse which gives birth to it an^H 
svmbolically imaged forth as Love, whose end and object i«^^ 
tlie fruitful commerce of the soul with beauty, or of the mimt 



t Frau^nM ivprrtonta th* poiitiT*. at Oorfisa does the negaiive prte sf 
■ca]iUcii« 1 the one SBaertinp the nMlit^ of th« vbuigliig sod rilaUTc, tne Mbo 
ikniyiug Ihr «xl«t«oc« of tu} < ' t' i -cd ilit-m iW; BMin to (uraljw 

llm huHisa Inttlloct, ftttliAVf 'i .n lo call it Uirih. 

t »o«» m»y br Miqiri««tl ui ...... . - "(bai \irt«e it knovlcdre, if 

tliawiuK xhhi it itnp)i<^ thv coiupftrtuni ' » iib OilnTV phamiv. WacdMr 

iliu bnve iH^ihiiiK u^lbv nainn' oCiuxi • ml homiietit ot uot. it u vsaedy 

pftnillvl to tli« pnmf in tlio ' Tlii'ii'U'tiH ' tii&t Liuorlvilp) b tK>t leamtiro, bocausr 

with 



n 



A 



ITa FlaUmic Dialogms. 



32& 



vith being. And while the creation of tnith in the learner's 
ininil is tlir ronsuminaJJon uf this rit'sire, Socrates, as thr qiifs- 
tiunlns spirit, proniilfs uadrr iliviau* jusistaace ovrr Uiis mental 
travail, f^iides it, by skilfnl trmtment, to a prosperous endings 
aiitl pronounces the iate of its rcault. 

Thff I'ba^irus forms a splendid porch or encrance-liall to this 
set^ml tilde. L'Hikine; l>ack wJtli a proud smile on the rheto- 
ririatig^ I'latn still invites the nmrrst n\ them • to enter and find 
tlie realitr, "f whirb tht;Ir art was only tJic rudely attempted 
Ci>pT. H'e have here, tfai)ii);^h f(»r the moKt part, in svmlwls imly, 
the tiricf tir abstract of what Plato undertakes to teach — tlui tran 
inspiration, the true method ot' IcMming, the tme art of writinf; 
anil spcakin;^. 

Dr. U'bewcll speaks of the Pli.i>dnis as being', though full 
of Ix^autirs, yet * prolix, rambling, aofl iHntastiral.* This 
judgment will hardly he cimfirmcd by those who Iiave per- 
ceired the close relation subsisting in Plata's mind amon?st 
the three chief subjects treated of — namely, i«ve, Uia- 
iectic, and Teaching. The discussion turns in the first place 
upfui the CNintrast between the tme and the false rhetoric ; which 
is in another aspect the <:nntrast between the true anil talse 
poetry, u c between philosophy and other arts of persuading or 
charming meo. Wc are made to feel from the first that there is 
some nobler object for the ingenuous enthusiasm of Plunlrus than 
the frigid, j)ani<loxica! diatrilx't on which it U wasted. It is im- 
piissibie not to see in tlie tlieme of tliis prose essnv, * that it is l»eltf?r 
toyield to one wlio liives not than (on lorer,' a satire «« those who 
sought to tmrb el<K]uen€M> by rules ; who told men not to tmsi the 
prampttngsof Naturt% huttobuyof tliem their ' orthoepy ' or their 
*auwmoaioon * — the tricks of speakers coldly furnished forth. 
Socntes, taking the hint suggestotl by this notion of loving *■ by 
tbecafl,' pleads eloquently against the warmth of passion infav<nir 
of the coldness of r<"a9on. Here also move !s mmnt llian meets 
die nu*. As reflection is a surer guide than feeling in common life, 
so in a wider sphere the calmness r>f phiKnuphy is better than the 
* best and dust * of political controTerey. And yet, if wisilom 
it cold and calm, whence came the inspiration which made 
SscKTrates so elo(iuent in plcatling the muse of wisdom? Phihi- 

Jhv is soinethmg more than logi*-. Tl*e gmius of the tlelight- 
spol where tliev are silting, am! the iH-;iuty 'if Hh;e<lru». warn 
the speaker not to depart thence till be luis recanted and sung tlie 



V». I»ocnte», Fhcdr., p. S78. 



t Suaiu xdmlars havt* nuiiituned tliat lliii vritbg ■« really by L)-(lu, ui 
iprclj I'luio'a panxl; of bin oiylc. Hut tliey are wvll aaswored b)F K. F. 
Ofiu, * Gt-ssmmvlt* Abhudlan^cn,' Ae^pp. I-SL 



nanu 



and not 
Vler- 



praiscs 



k 



The Platonic Dialog/nu, 

praises of Lore — »ot o{ Uiat iDtliscriminatr ptudoD wliich gWet 
its tnnft to popular oratory, but of the heaTeotv. 

' For madness is not one, but diverse ; onci tbat there is ft 
heavenly madness, the iospirution uf prophets, and divliicrc, aad 
of JHKM5, witnriiscs. But u> undcrstnuci something' nf the modueai 
which is rcalh- divine, we must tbiuk of tbc immortal nature 
of tliesoul.' Then fuUows the famous myth, in which we see how 
cloaely tbe philosophic impulse (tore) and the dialectical method 
(diuresis and %fa&go^;E) arc associated in Plato's mind. * No 
soul that lias nut sccu the plain of Truth can tmter the funu of 
Man. For Man must be able to rise from many jiarticular soif 
sations to one universal conception of each kind.' Ami tills he 
does by recollecting the eternal forms which the soul has once 
seen in her winged state. Of these the Beautiful alone assumes 
a shape which can pierce the avenues of mortal sight, and 
awaken those higher perceptions which extend also to the 
Righteous, the Holy, and the True. The process which now 
begins is spoken of as tlie pre|)aration of tiie soul for antither 
winged state hereafter. The imjmlse which leads tn Oils endeavuor 
is the white horse in the jmir which draw the chariot of the soul ; 
Uie dark liorse is the emblem of tlie low desires which aim at 
the enjiiymi-nt of the particular b(»lily forms of beauty here, jj 
Tlie struggle between these two at the sight of a beautiful object^| 
is graphimlty described. The white and aspiring bone ts^H 
struck witli awe, liecause he sees the reflection of the etenml 
beauty which he has once beheld, and which now beams upon 
liim, as in a vision, from its lofty throne. The dark burse 
rushes madly forwanis. Tlie office of rea3*)n is to curb the lower 
hive, and at unci- tu follow and direct the higher. Tlie-U there 
springs up a sacred jiassion between tlie lover anil the lored onC| 
in which the claims of the really licautiful and tnio are never 
forgotten — the se^-cral stages of which are set before us as in a 
painting. Gmdually, but surely, the brute is 'kept under and 
brought into subjection,' while tlie god within tliem Iwgins to 
* prune his feathers and let grow his wings.' 'Hie first stirrings 
of the ' new sti-ong wine of love' — consciously in the lover^ unron- 
sciously in the beloved one — arc depicted, in a passage which is 
one of the triumplis of language, widi tlic most vivid trutli and 
power. (It should Ix-udded dial there are features in the drscrip- 
tion which show the impas&able gulf existing betwetm Heathen 
and Christian morals.) The pure love of die invisible beauty ' 



I 



en MJ 

- '"H 

the visible is the birth of the s«>ul into a new life, which ph!la-^| 
sophy is to ilevelupc into an immortal l>eing. ^M 

vie- return to tne earth, *our habitation,' and to the writing 
of Lysiat, and the field of rhetoiic, from which we t<K)k our 

adventurous 




A 



771^ Platonic Dutlofpte*, 



387 



adrcntUTotu flight. The thoughts which hare been develojietl 
arc npplicable, not only unhcUiric iiiul poetry, to which they have 
>jL'en incidentally applied, but to statesmanship and tiic icri/iar/ uf 
decrees. He who is bi^nt on seeing' everything in tlic light of 
universal principles, and lias learnt sometlung of the nature 
of the soul, will know how to mould written ami s]ioken Innguag« 
to true parposeg, and to vary it according to the character and 
capacity of Iiis hearer. The true rhetoric is the art which edu- 
cates the human mind, and imparts to it the love of truth, so 
leading man towartts the vision of the Eternal. This difTers from 
the art of Lysias and his friends as science differs from a mere 
knack — distinguishing and combining the fonns of existence 
according Ut nature, and at the same time discerning tlie state of 
the individual soul, so as, while still aiming at the highest truth, 
to accommodate the mode of communication to particular per- 
sons. As a means to this end, prose writing * (at least in its onlt- 
nary form) is far inferior to tlmt living dialectic, by which, 
through the immediate intercourse of mind with mtnd, fresh dts* 
coveries of truth — the genuine children of the intellect — are 
bom : creations of our own reason and enthusiasm in a kindreU 
soul. Herein the saying of Lysias is reverseil. Written teach- 
ing is like the influence of the cold lover. With tliis reflection, 
and with the prayer of Socrates, to lie fair within and rich in wealth 
uf raimi, thdf Ode to the Immortality of JLove and Truth fitly 
concludes. 

Several thoughts are here concentrated which in other 
dialogues are expanded sejjarately, Tlie theory of 'Love,* for 
instance, is matured in tlie Symposinin, as that of Recollection 
had been anticijMted in the Mono : this renppears again, together 
with a clearer <loctTino of Immortality, in the Plucdo ; the rela- 
tion of the teacher to the taught, and of the mind to knowledge, 
is more fully illustrated tn the TTiea?tetU5 ; the true Oiaipclie is 
developp<l in the Sophisia, Politicii^ l*nrmenides, and I'liilebiis; 
white the false is ridiculed ut h-ngth in the Kutliydemus. Anil, 
on the more pra<rtica! side, tbo Politicus endeavours to draw the 
line Iwtwcen the true and false * writer of decrees,' just as the 
rhetoricians receive a separate rastigation in the Gorgias. 

Now in following up each of IJiese suhJiH-ls with continual 
reference to liis masu-r's spirit t(f inquiry, Pinto is idways 
* conversing' with some other mind either in tlie past or present, 
and realizing some jiarticular aspect of philosophy. And 
in doing so he has sountlcd every note from the very bnsi- 
slring of materialism to the unheard Imnnoiiii^ of Pythagorean 

* Coinpare Prot.. p. 339, «t Si harifottA waA n, Atrttf p(fi\M aMf l)(aitgi> 
Imeflroafn, TbcsL, p. 1SI, in ni Mirmt r^t filB^fv i'^iy^a. 

mysticism. 



The Platonic Dialogvm. 



raysticisin. Even if he faiut ntlilccl notUin|r \n pliil<Kophy, Uia 
works would hnve bcm must vatuable as tin; inlorpi-c-tntiMn o( m\X 
that prero<le3. It wntilrl liavr Uofii nii siniill gnin lu hnvn tlio 
tmmbstantJal world nf Uiuugbt l>n>itt;bt birftirc Lht- imaffiiMtJiio 
as Tiridly hy him as the norld of passkra is by Sb&k«i>]>eiirp, anil 
by HomtT tbat of heroic actiim. (W'e may 6gurc to ourselves 
bts genius as that of Sbnkespr^am intrilfrtunliicrd, aimI ^<>aile<l 
forward bv an ever-picspnt mejral ami pbilnsopbit; niulivr, wliich 
tbr death of Socmtrs liail miuld unallejable.) I'lalo is not mt'trlr 
philosopher and port. He is the j»oct of iJiilusophy. Hut lie is 
more tluui tliis. Not nnlv does be )*ive a periect expression to 
the different phases of reflection ; he creates it anew. While his 
iniajjination is hodyinsj forth tlie forms of tliinps iinserrn ; while 
his humour plays liphtK witli Ihp fuiblcs ui eonl*'m|inrar\" 
thnugbt, his rrason (-omjiruhrtulfi nil that it Burve>s, judgi^ and 
tnndrratns between coiit>--mliiif; factions, and i^ivcs pi-uportiun 
and mmninK to the parts of the imperfect Jabric by rocoostnici- 
in^ tJM whole. 

In the intermediate period of his acti\*ity which we arc coo- 
Btderiit^, liis mind still apiM-ars as niany-sidml, ttot yoi perfectly 
in b.iriiiony with itself; and still retaining a |inraduxi('nl ntliluilr- 
towanls the majority nf men. \et there !£ ajipnreut everywhere 
ilie consciousness of A single eifort — the endeavour Ui conceive 
more clearly the menial phenomena which had arisen in the aiet 
of Socratic inquiry and the realities corrcspomling (o them. 
These phenomena mav be resolvwl, as liefnrr, into — 1, the Iwlicf 
in an nii^ilut<> staml'iril nf Kuuwled^i.- and Hc^iii^; 2, tlir inr* 
ItTrssiblr impui.sc- to L-ontiime wnn-hiiifj fur diis ; ii, the mrtliod 
uf rnmbirtinfj this searcli, and of coming nearer tu the olgcti of 
it by ennvi^rsationai de6niti(Xi. 

I'liere is more art in these Uialo^es than in most of tboeo 
rontxined in the first .series. Tlie form nf c]urstion and Answer 
ia iiwd less as a means of pr<i]w>slne and 9otvin<; tlilbculti*^ ami 
with a mnn> marked iutt^ition i>l h-sidin^ the readrr towards tlie 
writrr's point of view. 'ITierr; is a more definite tendency 
towanls positive tesalts, though the^c arc oUim nut dibtiitetly 
stated. When iSocntes himself speaks of beiu^ perplexed and 
doubtful, we arp less inrlined to believe him, because the inquiry 
is evidmtiv not merely fullnwed but directetl bv him. Not 
that h<* is bv unv means fiKblinc: with shadows; rral difficulties 
rpm:iiii to (^mpple with. Only lhi«c arc i«nrpiv<nl of in a more 
c*': oive way, and are more firmly and systt-matically 

oceed to examine sepamtely the chief elements of 
' lliis period. 

1. Tbe 



I 



I 



I 



1. Tlir snul wUirb aniinntcs it is tlic rclt^ioos aeftl witK which 
llie tm|uiriis arr comlucted. 'ITil' pursuit ol' trnth — of tfaiit tinjlh 
bv which mm! arp to live — is regard(>d as the one work whirh 
is worth doing in tho world. The mind which is ready to acknow- 
\ciigc ihp cxistrnrc of somiMljing; to b*^ percci^xd ap«rt from 
teme, is ' hraulil'ul.' tlinugli uniMiornojl wilh [ntmmuI ehariiiB.* 
The same mind needs not to ho convinced with argtlBHllts tlmt 
D^ity, anil not Chance, is the true cause of tlunji^t There 
wove not wanting thoH> who turned the Socntic coafession of 
ignorance to tltp annihilntion of the Socrattc spirit of inquiry* ; 
hut thrr are met, not so much by onv proof (^scc, howcrer, 
the nrgiimfiit in the *MeDo*), as b_r the unqiK-nchahle faith 
in the jwiwer of Mind ami the exi&tenre of tliinjfs not seen. 

* How will you prix-eeii, Socmtes, if you ore denial the use 
of this term Knowledge, which you hare not defined?* 

* While I am Sorrates. I sliall not relinquish ti,' is the answex.^ 
lliis umlnunicil impulse towards the attainment and cw- 
templnljon of universal truths is spoken of in various ways, 

'hwt it is most frequently symlwlizpil as Eros, love. The soul of 
the philosopher L* described as from the first averse to rest in the 
particular circumstances with which he ts surroumled here, or in 
the contemplation of particular objects.^ D«pising^ these, he 
seeks to Ttcw everything in its onirersal aspert ; to know, that is, 
not this or that man, but human nature ; to study, not instances 
nf private wrouc, but justice and injustice in theoiselves ; and, 
tnsteail nf envying tho great, to contemplate real ^nttiiess and 
real hajipiness. Tu have seen something of these tluDgi is to 
feci lliv necessity of mounting upwards in action as well as 
thought ; while a just and holy life inspired with wisdom makes 
the man tike to Gud, conforminf^ him to the eternal pnttem of 
the Divino-H This is a more literal account of tlie nspimtions 
fhich are mnhically described as the desire of the soul for the 
uity, and truth, and goodness which it has once seen, and the 
jrcoHection of which is gradually awakened by the sight of the 
Ixraotiful on earth. This passion of the reason is the subject of 
one of the most remarkable of Plato's dialogues, the *S_vmposium,* 
in which the several Ijanquttci's are made to sing, each in a strain 
peculiar to him, the praises of love. The ciinception fonned by 
ic'h speaker is distinct, ami yet the dialogue is cMiductetl not 
idioul a tacit refereme to that * figure veiled to whom they sing ;' 
all, as Alcibiades bluntly hints to them, are * bitten ' with the 
lol Socratcs.1l Pbndrus, the beloved youth, descants genetally 



• ' ThewL," p. ISA. 
t •ThMK..' p. 19:. 
I "Than., f, 176. 



t ' Snpk^' p. 2flA. 
$ 'ThwpL, p. 173, 



in 



330 



The Platonic Dialo^um, 



in praise of Wc, the invincible, the eldest god. Pausanios, the 
prtct's lover, distinguishes (with Sorrnte* in the 'Pha-*!™*') 
Lictwcen the common and the heavenly love, corresponding, that 
to the modem, this to the eternal Iieauty. Kryximachus, the 
physician, speaks of love (in tlie spirit of Em|)cdiKlc3) as the 
one power which pervades all nature, brirfrinff into harmony 
what before was contrary. Aristophanes grotesquely sees man- 
kind by a Divine Nemesis bereft of half themsrives, and wander- 
ing forlorn and sadly in search of their ihiubUs. Tlien AgnOion 
tlie poet sings that love is not the * eldest god,' but ever young, 
tender, and moving delicately, yet with power to still the winils 
and soothe the anguished breast. The incooBistcncy of these dif- 
ferent encomiums shows that so far love h;»s been praised rhelori- 
cnlly, ratlierthan philos^iphlrally. F'"arh speaker has, however, eon- 
Iributed some hint towardiillic dlstcmrst; which follows, rspeciidly 
I'nusanias, by separating the earthly from the heavenly luvc; 
Kryximachus, by speaking of love as a universal poivcr ; and 
Aristophnnrs, by destTihing it as the -want of somrthing, which 
h(- particularizes as our otlier self. Agndion im^l also introduced 
a useful distinction hetWL-en Luvt* and his works. Itut tliLTi* ts a 
deeper distinction, which liad escaped them all, iJiough Aristo- 
jibanes came near to it, but which is now drawn by Socrates, — 
between love and the object of love. Love is not immortal ; it 
is a contradiction to speak of ' immortal longings ;' he would not 
be himself were that which is desired jxisscsscd. 'llierefore he 
must be in need of sumL-diing. Hl- is not ignorant, yet hr has 
not wisdom ; he is not beauliful, though to call him ugly wimld 
l)e ft sin ; he is far from evil, yet he has not excellence. He was 
conceived when Aphroditt; was bom. His lather is InvenduOf 
the son of Thought, his mother Poverty. He resembles his 
mother outwardly, but his father in^vardly. He is not rich, and 
sleek, and fair, but wizened and squalid, j(/((w/('as, ami iritfiatU a 
home^ lyiiR on the ground uncovereil, in doorways or in the 
opi^n street, l^ut he is full of schemes and plans for aiming at 
th(^ good and bc-autiful, dauntless and bold, huntsmanlike ever 
weaving some conlrivaucc by which wisdom is to be ovcrtnkeo. 
And often he alternates between his father's and his mother's 
nature ; now full of immorUiIity, now »Ur\eil t4> (hatli, aiMl then 
revived ^ain." Knowledge is the wealth h«! seeks, lienee ho 

" C'u&iparc Sbakrtprare, Sonn'et Ixxv.— 

* And for tlip pence of yftu T hold locli Hrif# 
As 'iwixt ■ miwr and hiH wriiltlt » round, 
Soiuctinic all full with feasuu^ on _vonr Ugbl, 
And liy and by clcaii fiiarvM tor n look ; 

Thus 1I11 1 pi:K- anil i>iiHV'it day liy daj-, 
Or ((lututouig on nil, or all Bwaj.* 






The PlcUonie Dialoffues. 



331 



1b not fooUali, thoagh he is not wise ; for folly is unconscious 
igiKHTincc, liut Lovp knows tliat he knows nothing:, nml desires to 
Icnutv. Siich is Love considered in himself. 

In order to understand tlie works of Love, bis Object must be 

I snore accurately defined, lliere is something which all rrealures 
desire, and this is not ximpty the 'good/ nor simply 'the other 
half;' !.«., soraething nhirh they have not which is their own. 
But they desire some absent ffood which shall be their otOL' 
Still this is too general an account of that special good possession 
which is the end of love. TTiis is not the beautiful merely, but 

"• rreatif)n tliTnug;h the beautiful/ as the outward assurance of im- 
mortality. Thus tliat love, whose end is natural offspring, is satis- 
fied by the contemplation of our own Ufe made permanent ; in our 
children we seem to live again. 'Vhe love of fame is the desire of 
pnulucing noble deeds, in which our name and our energy shall live 
on for ever, niese are one kintl of olTspringof the sotil. Another 
kind, whirli is prizml still inon- htghty, is that already sjmkcn 
of in the * Phrrdpis,' the creation of noble thoughts, of true disco- 
veries, by the intercoorse of mind with mind. The man whose 
soul is teeming with invention first loves the beautiful, even in 
biHlilv forms, more than another ; Init bis gmnd delight is tn mi?(ft 
with a beautiful siml, thnnigh wliirh lie may ln'gi*l fair chihlren, 
that is, true aec'imnts of things. Such arc the noblest pledges of 
affection, the best monuments of fame, like the good poems and 
noble institutions handed down to us from them of ohf. 

But there is a love higher tluin llie purest human intercourse, 
whose aflections are ftxetl on nothing lower than the Idra uf 
beauty. Towanis this the soul is led by a continuous ascent — 

: first gajting on one beauteous person, then perceiving the resem- 
blance of others to this, until it knows the beautiful in persons 
everywhere; from this rising to the contemplation of beautiful 
Souls; and from this, ng.-iin, to study the iM'auties of life nml 
action, and, higlior still, tti the beauties which science unfolds; 
until, at leiigtli, tlien? is attained the conception of one supreme 
science — the science of absolute beauty, in which the soul finds 
an all-absorbing delight. 

Lastly, as if to show wliat in the preceding discourse wastym- 
holii-nt and what was real, the person of Socrates himself is 
Tu<!ely uQveilcil by Alcibiades (wikj breaks in) as the embodi- 
ment of the true love. He is rejinsented (and the portrait is Do 
doubt historical) as being, under the ironical outward garb uf 
his erotic profession, absolutely pure from the taint of vicious 



I 



33S T/m Platottie Dktloffuet. 

desire, and full of noble tbii^ within * — a lover of the beantiful 
apart from all the * noiuense ' of transitory objects. In the life 
of Socrates we arc led to think the ideal ' Eroi* which he himself 
described was actual ; and, in the narration of Alcibiadea, he 
indeed rises to the height of what a Greek was able to conceive 
of virtue. 

It will be easilj seen, especially if the * Phsedrus * is com- 
pared, how closely the above symbolic teaching is connected 
with the mythical and religious aspect of the ideas, and with the 
doctrine of the immortality of the soul. This last is made the 
immediate subject of the * Phoedo.' Here the same idealising 
effort which was intended by the symbolic ' love ' is spoken of widi 
deeper solemnity as the preparation for death. In the 'Banquet' 
philosophy was found to be the true kernel of this present life ; in 
the * Phffido ' it is discerned to be the ripening germ of a future 
one. As in the former dialogue the soul is imagined as rising 
by die staircase of limited affections to that absolute contem- 
plation in which these are absorbed, so in the latter the immortal 
part in us is represented as shaking off by degrees the coil of 
sensible things, 

' this earthly load 
Of Death, called Life, which us £K>m life doth sever.* f 

Plato's feeling of immortality seems to have been quickened 
through his contact with Pythagorean thinkers, but the form 
which it assumes with liim is characteristic ; the belief in the 
immortality of the soul is allowed by him to stand or fall with 
tlie eternity of those ideas which are the true objects of mind, 
which the soul has seen in a previous state, and only finds the 
imperfect likeness of them here in things which, to uso the 
strangely Platonic words of Shakespeare, 

' Are but dressings of a former sight/ ^ 

And it should be noticed, as a point liable to be overlooked by 
the modem reader, that the life-long struggle towards immor- 
tality described in the ' Piuedo ' is quite as much the endeavour 
lo get free from the limitations and contradictions of sensible per- 
ception as to be relensnl from the disturbing influences of desire. 
2. Plato has been often interpi*ete<l, censuretl, and admired, as 
if he were a mystical writer ; and the above remarks may seem 
to confirm such an impression. But the side of his traching 
which we have just noticed will be most imperfectly under- 
stocxl unless studied in connexion' with another, at first sight 



% 



* Compare th« ' Fbicdniit,' iab/in. f Miltou. t froiuict cxxiii. 

verv 



TJm Piatmie JOtabifuet. 333 

Terj di&rent, but oereT lot a moment separated from it by 
Plato himself. His love of truth is do mere aspiration, but is 
ever accompanied with the most intense intellectual effort. The 
desire and the actual search go hand-ln-hand. It is the invi- 
sible, but not the incognisable, which he strives to grasp. The 
forms of existence must be distinct, or they are nothing to him. 
The unity of the mind itself and its independence of the senses 
is not suffered to remain a mere dreamlike consciousness; it 
must be placed clearly before the eye of reason. 

When Socrates, by professing ignorance, set up an absolute 
standard of knowledge, he did not merely, like Parmenides, 
assert his belief in Absolute Being, but continued asking, ffliat 
is a state, virtue, government ? — u e., what is the true account of 
them ? Plato found an exjuression for the aim of this endeavour 
in two words which Socrates had doubtless himself used, though 
in a less technical sense, X0709 'account,' 'definition,' and 
€t&>9, * kind ' or * fwm ' — i. e., the universal nature corresponding 
to a common name. These are respectively, in modem language, 
the subjective and objective end of what Mr. Grote has called 
* the scientific operation.' The word XorftK is also frequently 
applied to the discussion through which a definition is sought 
for, while the habitual use of such discussions is called \oyoi. 
Further the method itself (the inductive process by which 
general definitions or conceptions are approached) is spoken of 
in the abstract as the ' conversational method ' or ' dialectic,' 
SiaXeKTiK^. And, with the exception of the famous l^ea 
(idea) which is in the first place a more picturesque et£o«, 
the terminology of Plato's * transcendentalism ' is already com- 
plete. Out of elements, apparently so simple, when brought 
into contact with a few surrounding theories, grew his philo- 
sophy of the mind, of its highest object, of JVIan and of Nature. 

The earlier efforts of the 'applied Dialectic,' in the Thesetetus, 
appear at iirst sight purely destructive. The relative theory of 
knowledge is shown to be not even relatively true. The Heracli- 
tean doctrine of motion is made to move and vanish away. And 
thus the mind is robbed of the fallacious support ofaso-called phi- 
losophy, which «icouraged its natural tendency to rest contentedly 
within the limits of its individual impressions. To use Plato's 
own image, the bonds are loosed and the man is enabled to turn 
away from the shadows on the pris<m wall. Here the negative side 
of the work of Socrates is generalized. The * conceit of knowledge 
without the reality ' is set forth with ihe utmost ingenuity as a 
philosophical theory in order to be destroyed. ' One neck ' is 
given to hydra-headed ignorance that it may be despatched 
at a blow. Vet the consciousness of particular and relative 

impressions 



334 



The Platom'n Dinlotjntea, 



imprcssioQS which has been cliciUKl, ii rather mluccd to it«i 
placp than absoliitrly destroyed. The ai-knowlnl^mpnt that 
st-nsatinii is )Hin-Oy rnlativc, ntit mily helps us in dividing sense' 
from kiiimli'df^jo ; it is a sti?p gaintxl in the direction of a theorr 
of sensatidii. And that I'lalo felt it to be so, afterwards if not at 
the time, appears from Ids own account of sensation in thr 
Tima'us.* The same nejfative result is also a positive step 
towards the di-rinitjon nf knowledf;e. Fur tf knciwledgc is 
nowlicrc in tlie sphere uf sense, it follows that the mind his 
ubjcet:i higher tlian sensible things. And the disciple of Soctate* 
has little difhcultv in fixing upon some of these. /7m'ni/, for! 
instance, is not perceived by sense, for it belonps to the objects 
uf all the senses. And so of GwkIiicss, Benuly, Resemblance, 
DilTereurr, and Number. But we can have opinion of these 
tliinjifs as well as knowlcd^* ; and there is such a thing as false , 
opinion; whereas knowledge must be always true, llus opens | 
a fresh difficulty, which is in fact only a more subtle form of 
that already dispose*! of, * How con our individual impressions 
be disproveil ? ' Tins now returns ujwn us in tlic (juestion. How i 
can a real operation of mind have »n unreal i>bject, since whati 
is known is real, and what is unknown cannot be present to the 
mind ? yevenU eaijrts are made to get rid of the perplexity wrca- 1 
stoned by this argument, which runs parallel to Zeno's proof of j 
the impossibility of motion. No satislbctor}' solution is, however, f 
proposed, and we arc left to reflect that something more is needed ' 
in order to make good the distinction between knowledge! and 
opinion, than the tlieory which is given as a last resort of a process 
between sensation arnl memory, even though meinor}' be made 
to include abstractions from sensible things. This much oal/i 
is clear, that knowledge is distinct even from true opinion. Fori 
on. opinion without real groun<t8 may hap|ien to lie tme. Whati 
ctmstitutes, then, the ' real gniunil ' of knowlwlge ? TTie Socratio] 
answer would be, * The jiowcr of giving an ticroitnf, or reason.' But 
how is tliis to be interpreted? Is it, as the Pythagoreans seem, 
to have dreamed, the comprehension of a certain harmony be-J 
twcen elements which are themselves unknown and can only bo] 
onmcd V Hnw is tliis ]x>ssible ? F<ir if the complex harmony i*! 
known, must not the simple element Im known also? UnlRnl 
we (iHicetvcof the * whole as an abstract nnncthing indrpeiidrn(l 
of its component parts ; but then will it not be simple and there- 
fore unknown ? Abamloning this line of thought for the present,, 
wc retain from Jt only the notions of an element and of 
abstract whole. Docs the true analysis of such a whole into it 



parts, tlien, constitute an account, nnd is this tlie tpst of kiiotv- 
Ictlge? No; ftir kiiunlitlgc implivs not tiirrrly truth in une 
case, but certaintv in all. !lut su]i|km<> we ndtl tUv power of 
distinguishing tiits u'hulo from rvurv other. Well; but do wc 
mean to add the hnowletlqc ur the true opinion of this distinction ? 
In thr latter aisr we have added notliinp to 'true opinion;^ in 
the former the term knov:ledt/v still n'mains undefuietL 

Such, compresseil into a few wtinls, is the argument of the 
' ThetFtetua.' At the close of it %ve see tlie mind, after beine 
tnmiticipated from the prison of sense and assure<l of its power 
of grasping tnitli, still fluttering uneasily in an unrcsistinR aimos- 
pbere, and askin;; 'How shall I know that I kn«w?' AlthtHigh 
tlie answer to this has Ix-en alreiiely anlieipated in a mythical 
form, h^~ tlie liyjiothesis of recollection, it is not now at. once given 
to the inquirinj^ reason. For knuwle<lge cannot be conceived 
of apart trom its ulijcct, and there are difficulties concerning 
this also which have to he cleared away. The examination of 
tliese difficulties is reser\'od for the Sopliista (with which (lie 
Politiens is cl<»selv connected) and the Parracnidt^ And in 
iXmmt the ohji-rt »i knowledge ami the metiiwd of knowledge arc 
So closely comhint^ as almi>st to l^e iilenttHed. 

We arc com|icllcd from want of sjiacc to waive the task i*f 
vhidirating the Platonic authorship of these dialogues from liic 
objections of Dr. Whewcll and his fav<*urite German interpreU-r 
of l*Iato, Socher.* We must fall Imck upon tin- authority of 
Aristotle and of Mr. Grote, who lioth quote tliesc dialogues as 
Plaut's, and of Professor Tlioinpson of Cambridge, who has 
defended their authenticity on sufficient grounds,- which might 
perhaps be considerably strengthened. 

Tlie Sopbista opens with tlie distinction Iwtween a name and 
on 'account' which enters into the conrhuling |in88ages ot tjic 
* 'niiaeti'tus.' And t]»c ideti of f/c/(H(Vi<»(, as implying dittinction, 
is here retained, 'J'lie process of logical division and sub- 
division, as the first stage of the dialectical method, is illus- 
trated with a good deal of pleasantry and at great length* 

* 'Uebcr Piston's Sdiriften.* MUii<-hcti, 1830. Socbvr'i arpratat sgslnst the 
BrnnitKimB or the Soplusia, I'aliticuii, bimI I'nrmrtiitlni msv dv «(tiU>d in » fi^w 
words : I. Th* minute anil loojiHlrawii wibdiTiHOM of Ihe !vphi«« and Pnlilicos 
sre ttdioussnHtmiikvaiij'tlitiigiaPlslo. 3. Thefloeralic irony is«Icni in ihem! 
X Heisg snd Doibcing srv hnr Donceivrd of lo(;icalIf , snd oot. ss vlaewhere io 
PImo, rrally. t. Ikiug U with Plato the nnchftn^MUc* The aathor of tliv 
Sophists coubiUa Ifai*, and endeaTOora to ncouvil'e Itcst and Motion under oniii 
tdea. TlieTeforv «c have herv an Anti-Plato, mid V\a.Xa is raosed vith ihe 
' [Hfndii of idcna.' 5. The Pentilwion of K\il, impHt'l in ilic inTtb in tbe PoH- 
ticui, ii mcuDaifitent vith Plato's irnicml optimisu. «. As ihr Suphbla *«nb«ts 
tha tiiiichunf;«ihlcn«s, to iht; l^Aniit>nidos undentuacs llie n&Hjr of the Idvs of 
BeioR. — We hnTt! miIt moni lo indicaic our dliseoL 

Vol. 112.— A'y. 324. % At 



M* 



dso 



T/t6 PhtoHiv Diaiogum 




i 



At the same time tho bunt after tW Sophiit by 
hugiuif at firrt playlully, but presently in vnmaA, H 
to dt'fuiv this creature V to (Uscovit hiin, ao»! gmsp hJ ni finnl 
am) hind liim down ? Hl* ii|)|irsrs id a Prutron vari«4^ 
slui|H>a. A fislinr nftrr young tnrn i>f iuitiuic, a veodor of 
wan'S, a lurtprtT of in tt-ll actual intercourse ; theae and 
surh ironical descriptions am attemjited. We ^o about Uie budi 
nHtin^ snares iur bim at every point IrtHii whicii we caScfa 
Jimpsc of bis whereabouts. At Inst, wben we tliink tu }m 
Vurnmnded Kim. we fm*\ bim at our ellxiw. lie claims 
ini-Lb(xl of division niid luffiition wbirb wc are ponuing { 
nftsciisio injimff) as bis own voentinn. Nav, mure tlum thJM, he 
riaitns for his own ibe end of tlto method, the purificmtun oi 
tbe Kou!, b^MTotft-fiuestionlng, from the ignorant cmieeit of know- 
I<-<l{ji'. 'J'bia startles us, and wc fear tJuit it is the savagu wolf 
wbo (bus puts on the semblance of tbe pentle dojj. Kv«n ihi^ 
bowever, is granted to him for the present tbnm^cb very wetuinea : 
mid t]m ini|uirrr5 * atop to tiike lirenth,' and to count up ihu 
dilterent funiiK under wbirb the Sophist has upjieared to tiiem. 
L4-t UB, loOf )mus4: aiwl ask ourselves to what this curiotu pi 
of mingled satire ami im|uiry is temlinjf. If we cfim|jnrr ^ 
Protapiras, when- wvcnil of these professms of wisdom a 
druinatii-nlly p«»rlrayed, we fintl a description of *tlie Sopbiii 
wbirb is mdv i*nr of the nniiy * false seents * iiidii'ntf^l ubuV 
vi:i!., that he is 'a nierebanl^man of intellectual wures.* A 
iHip]i«icmU!s is put iHi his ^uard b-st ibe Sophist, lilcr oUii 
liulesinen, should deeeive us by praising indiscriminatoU wli 
lie lias to ofTer. In that attempt at definition there apuetuv tl 
first (raee of the idtral Sophist, wbo is the subject of Jncjui 
here ; and who impcrsonutes, nn| simply tbe 'conceit of kiKJwliilj; 
without tilt' rcnIitV)* but the apiieaninre of pbtli»si>phv wilbuut 
tbe n*ality. And tlie real diftirulty which Plato here propuM 
for solution is, bow is this deceptive apjjcarance possible i' 
mniiot be (|uite exonenite<l from tbe cliarpe of applying to b 
rivalfi an invidious tenn which others would have equally npplie 
to bim, iind tlius condescending; to seek the sutirages of thi 
vulgar. l)ut it must be alloweil that as meaning a j/rcfcsMt 
of wisdom, or prdetuler to wisdom, the word lent itself very 
temptingly to his purjioses.' In this dialogue the notioa of tiic 
pseado-pbilosophcr is generalized, and it is also extended so 
tu embrace a laigcr clau. For one auuwt belp 

* jSt»Ay\a» hu very clearly Ehown hb apprceistioa of tbe ton« of flgri 
DHSaqNUiying the mm m llic Icna m^t/rrtjt. In two ptuagw of fail * PromHfas. 
w». M, 9<«. wbwe ii in nppliod tn tbe troprmumtioa of lh« Ubctviin^ intrnevt 
IIk ecrvilv luUiiitcn of bUud uud artiitnu^- p<>wvi'. 




The Platonic Dialogues. 337 

that some Sociatics are included in this sweeping net, when 
the Soplust is made to plume himself on his negative dialectics^ 
and on the power of crosSHjuestioning. A * Sophistic ' use 
could be made even of these. The allusion to the Megarlan or 
Eristic school of Euciides is too obvious to be ignored. And 
when the hunt for the fisherman is made to illustrate the hunt - 
for the Sophist, we may notice a tendency to generalize the 
Socratic method in the employment of a trivial example to 
illustrate, not here the subject of inquiry, but the mode of inquiry.* 
To proceed with the argument. The multiform activity of 
the creature under the same title makes us suspect some trick.f 
For every art which deserves to be called by a single name has 
some one principle on which all its various performances depend. 
Now the man professes to talk controversially on every subject, 
and in doing so gives the impression that he knows it. It is 
impossible that he can know everything. How does he make 
men believe that he does ? In other words, how is the appear- 
ance of philosophy without the reality possible ? The inquiry 
is soon found to run up into a deeper one, which is the main 
subject of the dialogue i How can that which is not, appear 
to be? This is obviously the complement to the question raiseti 
in the Theaetetus : How is false opinion possible ? They arc the 
objective and Tsubjective aspects of the same difficulty. Now 
follows the criticism of Parmenides, who flatly denied existence 
to all but Absolute Being. We are compelled to assign a rela- 
tive existence even to that which is not ' absolute being ;* other- 
wise, it is humorously said,'i the Sophist will appear nowhere, 
and escape us. From this point Plato dispenses with the ironical 
mask which he had assumed, and the inquiry is conducted with 
unmistakeable earnestness, though not without many touches of 
humour. The subject was indeed most interesting in its bearing 
on philosophy and life. How to conceive intellectually of the 
problem actually solved by Socrates, who believed in an absolute 
ideal standard of goodness and truth, and yet could bring this 
belief into daily practical contact with the world as it was — 
seeming to annihilate while he really called forth a new spirit ? 
This, though in form of expression peculiar to that time, and 
only intelligible in f connexion with Greek thought, is essen- 
tially the last and highest problem of the philosophic intellect 
as such: How to mediate between Abstraction and Reality — 
how to give life and enei^y to ideal conceptions by the return to 
fact? How shall thought be not like a straight line passing 

* Compare the A^ovr^s in the FolitirtiSi aod the words (p. 279) ■waitaMytutrat 
vtrh Til rapiittyftJi fioi htVinmy, 
t 0af/M, p. 333, 

2 2 OTeV 




338 Tht PUOmie Diakgnut. 

over (Itirifrs, but like a cun'c embmcinK tlicm ? Or mther, bow 
sbitll it do iHtth, rnnipmlienilitig- unity uml variety in one? 

'Hji; ilifliruUics l«-srttinK tlic idea <»t* Xot-Bt-ing are first K-t 
fonii. 'l"hni th(; One-Bcinjj cif i*arinpni<Ic8 is taken in LamLfiuitl 
trcnt^tl inurh as in tlie tlia|4igue which Ixsin his namt-: tlic t-on- 
Ceptiuti of One Whole is shown tu involve ilivurslly bi>tli uf 
attrihulrs nntl jHirts ; wliilr, if the same nmreplion uf Being is 
Jeniifl, tliat-ulii('b-is-no(-buin{^ is also mnile imimtcivable. The 
Almdute iluplies the Relative, nnd the Ilebtj>e requires tlie 
Absolute lor its support, iya much for the Kleotic and Ionic 
doctrim-s in their antique exactness. Tlic mon* recent phase 
of each is Uien approached, I'lato dewrilK-s the idealism and 
materialiKin of itmteinpnrnr)- school!*, ami endeavours to draw 
tliem togetlfer th;it he may luiH't tJiem upon a common fnxituid. 
I'he materialists are made lu :u:kiuin' ledge the existence of 
wisdom and the other virtues (though not ol tbe mind) as 
immalerinl ; ami are thus <lriven to conceive of lM>ing as * tliat 
which has uilive or passive juiwcr,' Tlie speaker then turns 
to the lovei-s of idetd forms (who arc probably Plato's fcllow- 
Socmtics of Mi-'gant), and trim to stir them from the ri^dity 
of tlicir niKtract notion of /«•»«*/ as opposed u> tccomitig. ' Pnwrr* 
IS just tlint which their conceptions lack. An endeavour is 
made to hfad them to think ot Being in ii more living way. 
Knowleilge jnust bir in some sense a process Ijotween subjiTt 
and object : and, it is added, we raiinot think of the Hiffhest 
Being as devoid of movement, and wisdom, and life, uml 
mind — as' if He were some sacred image {'Hht trpo-i Aios; 
<u? aXuiOat^ Kunfciv Kal ^wrjv /tal "^v^f Kai ^potn^tv *) pahitav 
•rreurOijiTOfiiSa r^ iravre^bit 5iti fii) Traptivai, fir^i' ^iv avru f*fj^ 
if>pov€ti/, rJXAa fT€fitmv km arftov, vovt' ovk c^ov, tuctvyrov tOTos 
tivat;). Neither motion m)r rest, neither Ijecoming nor being, 
neither the relative nor the absolute, can alone be conceived of as 
the true object of Knowlcflgr ; and yrt how arc these opixisiu^ to 
bi! brought into harmony ? It is as difficult to conceive rightly nf 
Being .IS of Not-Being, that dark cave into which the Sophist tan 
to earth. The jmint of thedifReulty is this : 1. Are ideas which 
arc distinguished from each other ever connected with each <Jtiicr ? 
i. Arc all ideas tlius connected? — and (3.), if not all, which an; 
so? 1. If there is no connexion of ideas, every theory of i1k* 
Universe is alike undone; and those wlio assert this contnulict 
tliemselvra in every jtropisilion. The extreme aiL-ilytical tm- 
(Icncy wouhl paralyse thought.* 2. But if there is unlimited 

' Plat, Sopli.' p. 2fitf. 

commuoioa 



The Platonic Diahffues. 



33tf 



rommuninn between .ill, rlien Rest will bo ronfused with Motion, 
and Motion ivitli Rest. It would be as much as to say, cvcrj'- 
tJiing can hi> prcdifalcd of evcrythlnj;^. * A science tliun is 
oeeilnd to determine which of these clciiicnU will unite — the 
scienfre of the contradistinction and connexiou of ideas or kinds 
of being: Dialectic, the science of tlie true freeman. We have 
found a trace of the Philosopher Ijefore cntcbing tlie Sonhisu 
Plato then proceeds to determine the relations, not of all the 
ideas, but of the chief ones — Bcini^. Rest, nud Motion. Two m<irc 
emerge as we examine these, the ideas of Sameness or Identity and 
DifTerenre, wliieh run tlinmph them all — each being the same 
with itself, hut different from the other twa As we pursue tliis 
train of thought, we fmd that each of the five ideas that have 
l>een mentioned both w and t.v mtf ; anil, in |>anicul»r, tliat even 
t!»e idea of being which is in the most absolute sense, in not 
nintion — I. e. is snmething different from it ; while, on tlie other 
hand, m<}tiim, which is imt — for it is different from lieing — yet 
i.i by ])artaking of the idea of Iwing. Urns, wc arc unexpectedly 
cnnbled to vindicate the existence of thai which is not — not as 
the men? iirgat ion of existence, but as 'something diffen-nt ' from 
the idea of Absolute Being; ami even this idea is limited ami 
partakes of iHiI-lii'ing, in so far as it is distitiguislietl fnim other 
Ideas. \ et after all this hihuur, » fui tlicr proof is necessary 
Ijefore we can ' catch the Sophist.' We must prove that thought 
and language can partake of this element of not-being, which is 
accordingly ilone ; and tlie creatur*' is unearthed ami taken. 

'I'hr reasoning, of whieb the atiore is an im|»crfeut .sketch, 
aj)pears to indicate a critical point in ihc development of Plato's 
jnind. It is here tlwt he breaks with the half-Kleatic, half- 
ScMTatic philosophy of KucUdes, and proclaims his tlissatisfac- 
tiou with tlic menrly analvtical methods of knowledge. This 
scents t4> be die acme of the tmirsitton from the sattrtcn) and 
netjatlve towards smnetbing of a constructive method — from 
seijarale generalizations towards a harmony of opposing thoughts 
— from a paratloxical attitu<!e towards a position at once higher 
and more coniprchcnsivc. We liavc not space to examine bow 
this is followetl up in the Poliiicus, and how a cognate problem 
IK worked out in the Parmenides. It is worth mentioning, how- 
over, tliat in tlie former dialogue, in which there occurs the 
same Pythagoi'ean association of cosmical with political notions 
as ill tbe 'I'imn^us. s«>me further steps asv matin in the evolution 
of a (lialeclicid met hoi I ; while in the latter s<*veral difticulli*'* 



• ComwiTF ' AristoUc, Met.' r. 4. 



ont 



840 



Thti Fhtonir Dialcpuea. 



mn fttuted at the ootset ns to the relation of tbc ideal to tlie 
actual world. 

In tlic Pbilchus the ronct^ption of Dialectic (as tlie srieace 
of thr Oiip and tho ArnnT) is found in its full mstarit/, 
wbilc that of Absolute IlL-iiif; has ^>wn into thn more concrete 
idea of ilio H^hcst G<ji>d. The Pythagorean nntjtliesis of 
Finitf iind Infinite is also substituted for the simpler one be- 
tween Rest and Motion. At the samo time I'lato's Psrehologv 
hrmmes more di'Slinrt Ol' nil the Dialogues, this — whirh n«>- 
demtes l>ptween the Megarian and Cjircnaic ediieal ctmreptioiu, 
betwren wisilnm and pleasure as t}ie chief g^ootl, and points to 
the Dii'ine Life as die jtuamtre of nil beneath it — is perhaps 
nietaphvsically the roost perfect. It is the last and ^catest of 
the dialectical, and the first of the repularly constructive, dis* 
l<))(ucs : it brings ihf scientific into closer harmony with the 
relig:inus and speculative reason. And white Pinto's t>wn thnuffht 
is matured and dnminnnt, all Uie elements of preTious and riNi- 
temporary philosophy have a plaee assigned tltero. We couUl 
wish that Dr. Whewell had piven a more complete account nf 
the I'hilebng to the Llni^liih n-ader.* 

Ill, The 'Republic' is acknwvledycd to be Plato's mosler 
work. All tlist precede are Init as sketches preparatory to the 
execution of this prent painting; inferior members of the Epic 
cycle, destined tr> be absorbed in this. Plato's powers are pre- 
sent titerc in their maturitv ; for It somethinf; of the dialectical 
keenix^ss is coftcned, thu is more than compensated hy an 
increased comprchensireness of view; and the '' Timvuii/ if in 
wnne way* mnre wonderful, is hardly so perfect. The changv 
whirh lirgnn at the height of metaphysical sjieculation haa now 
jKissed orer tlie whole field of philosophical vision. Hitherto 
we have been lahorinusly ascendinf* towards the ideas; we are 
now endeavourinp by their still distant lipbl to aee t]ie otrjects 
of whirh the shadows surround us in oor common life; to 
conceive nf that coiirrete ideal form, Ix>th of the individual and 
of society, apart fn>m which rirtue in the abstract is to as only 
a name. 

Tlio imaginary TOConstructiiM of the State is made the symbol 
of whM (he indiridtial ought to be : and the division of it into 
_ the deliberative, executive, and working classes corresponds la 
Plnlo's trijnirlite diviftinn of the siml into the faculties of RcwMrtl, 
Will or Anper, iind Desire, Little is said of the k>weBt prin- 
ciple, citlicT in the in<lividual or the commonity, eacept geiMw 



i 



• See thp tnuulation nf tlio ' PhilebaH,' bj- E. Port*, Esq., ahetdy neBtioned. 
Abo ibnt b; Sydeatiua in ilie Urjti Kngilui utliUoa of ruio. 

rallj 



I 



A 



TIte Platonie Dialofpta. 



341 



rally that it roast Icnm to do its oirn business and to obey • 
oltboush we gather sfjmethin;; incidentally conwrning h in the 
Acconnt of ths educaliun of the secowl, nr (^rnutiTr rinss,* awl 
in the description of tlie vicious atates.f Tlie disnissiiwi rbieflj 
tarns on the crluration of the tvro higher priuripli-s and the 
subservience due from the lower of these to the lu-rher. 

Wc ffinnot but tliiiik that the arrnnji^'mcDt of the * Repuhlir ' 
which Dr. VVhcwel) luis adopted, trndii cimsiderably to obscure 
this its general scope. For instuuce, if there j» one point on 
which the whole iabric may Iw said to rest, it is the pni|)fi8al 
that philosophers stiould he kings; the discussion of wliirh is 
immediately followed up witli an account of the ixlueation of the 
royal philosopher, who is to Ijc the 'eye* of the State. Vet 
Dr. Whewell Ireals each of lhf?sc nrgiimrnts as if it were a 
separate digression, thus: * Digression !II. Of Philow>pher3 as 
Politicians; Digression IV. Of the Degrncs of Hutnaii Know- 
ledge.* And it may be further ohieetn<l to this lost title, tliai 
no one would suppose from it that Digression IV. born any 
relation to Digression !. ' Of Etlncation in the Ideal I'olity.' 
Wherwis in Pinto's mind these were evidently contrasted, as the 
etiueitlion of tlie reason through philosujihy and the education of 
the di8|)o«itioiis arwl tastes by hahit; the latter of which was a 
iiefrrsfiary j)rcparat)ve to the former, though it was only to be 
ac(|niesred in finally in the case of those who were found in- 
capable of the higher training.^ Several passages of the ' Poli- 
ticus ' (where even the image of the stecrsinnn is nnticipate^t §) 
prove clearly that the asjtiration towards a kingdom uf philosophy 
was by uo means an afterthought, but that this was the con- 
summation ou which tlie wholo cDergy of Plato's uund was 
centered. 

It \A fair to add, however, that while the effect of the whole 
work is thus gratuitously injurctl, the treatment of the si^vcrai 
|tarls is often exceedingly clear and spirited, and many nf i1m» 
remarks arc valuable, We may fall attention lu tlu! fidlowing 
jHuwage, on Plato's conception of a higher astrOunmy. || 

' ThTu the Platonic notion of an Astronociy which doale ^vith doe- 
triuoit of a moro exact and dblonninatc kind than the obvious rclatiituH 
of pfaeDomaDA, may lio ft>uiiU U* tend cithi-r to error or to tmUi. Sndi 
wpRattoun point equally to the fivo regular solids which Kepler Jma* • 
Ipiiod a« (Ictcmiiiung the planetary orbitg, and to the laws uf Ki^plor, 
m which Nowton dotct:tcd the cffud uf autvcrsal gravitatiou. I'ho 
Rftlitiea which Plata looked for, oa B<Hnething inoompar&bly tnoro real 



t E.ij. p. 5;i. iV>, % See Ke|u pp. 4M, 619. 

{ p. 2W. Cf, H«^ p, 4S8. I Vo). lil.. pp. S«l. SW. 



Uun 




* 



thaii tlio visiblo lumiiuu-toi!, are found, when vre find goomelric&I Gj^aros, 
epioyoleR and twceutnc^i Iaws uf luntiuii and luwu of forco, wUicli ex* 
pUin the appearuicou. Ilia roalitiea uv tboories wliich ac-iwanL for 
tlitk pbeuomciio, iilcmn which cotmoct tHe facta. But in Tlato n;:;ht in. 
bfdding tiliat hqcIi rualilii^K im LUuhu uru more r«(i/ tiuu tlie pLouonifiim, 
and constituto an Mtrouomy of a liiglier kind Uum tluit uf incm 
apiienrancoB •? Ti> tliis we sUftll, of course, reply tliat theories and 
fiu;ts hiivo iMch tlioir roftlity, lut tliat those arc realities of different 
IdixU. Kcplor'a lam aro as real as day and night: the force of 
gravity t«'Tidin^' to the Ran ifl aa real a» tho son ; but not more so. 
Tnic th(.'t]rii-»( mid fiwt^ oro oquaUy real, for true tlieorios aro &cta^ 
and facta ore fiuiiiliar theories. Astronomy i», as Plato says, a aeries 
of )>ndilriim MUf^f*oiit«d tiy viBiblo things ; and the thoi^^ts in onr 
own iiiinds, f^'hich bring tho Holutions nf theeo )>roh1emK, have a 
reality iu the things wliicb suggust tlium. 

' But if wo tiy, OS riato does, to iiepanite and oppoeo to each other 
tbo iLstronnniy nf appoarancos and tho iiRtrnnnniy of thoorioR, wo 
att4.'mpt that whiuh in impoaaible. Thoro uru iiu phenomcua which do 
not uxhibit Kumo law ; no law con bo coiiccivod without (>Lenou)Oi». 
Tb<.' lioftVpnH offnr n soricK of pici]ih;nw ; Itiit h<iwoT(!r many of thorn 
probhrtnx wo W)Ivu, there reninin utill ininuiiomblc of them nusulrt^l, 
nod theoo nnRolTott problems have solntions, nnd ore not different in 
kind from thci«e of wliicli thu ustant Kulatioii ih iDOKt uouiploto.' 

Our space forbids us to enlarge further on whnt some one 
has onllrti ' the (frrntcst uninspired writing.* One point, how- 
over, uinv Im" notirwl ns itiutitnitivt; nf the growth of Plntti's 
mind. Those lower forms of human excelloiu'^-, tlic rxisteiin> 
of which apart from kmiwl«lg:e appeared so |»erpIpxinK to 
Socrates in tho * Protagoras,* are here admitte<l, through ihe^^ 
recognition of dificrent elements in the constitution of our^^ 
rommon imttin-; wliicli though inseparably united and india-^^ 
liensiiMir to e.irlt other's perfcrtinn, are not identiral. The union 
of the reasoinng :ui(l a<:t.iv(* pnntnplps in the state, makes righ 
netion possible for indiviihuls who are not porfcrtly possejiscdj 
iif reawm.* 

IV. Tlie only (lialogueg which arc certainly later than the, 
*Il«t|>ublir' are the ' Timjcus,' the fragment calletl the 'Crilias,' 
and iho 'Laws.' Of these the 'Tima-us' and *CrItias* are inti- 
mately connecte«l, tJic arctpunt of the constitution of nntuir 
forming ilu- introduction to that of the activities of an ideal 
society, Tlie ' Laws' arc a popular treatise, in which the author, 
instead of remodelling the state, proposes certain amendments of 
existing iiujti tut ions. Kd. Zi-Uer, who vimlir.-itcs the genuineness 
of tlie ' Laws' OS a pi>st!tuinrnis work of l'hilo*.>i, imagines him tu 



* In Ariilollr's language they may be saul to partake uf it, bat wt to Itavu it ii 

liav) 




77« Platonic Dialoffws. 



343 



hare written it when ilisApnnintinG; experience hail taught bim 
to despair of seeing his Kopubllc realixed. This ma_v be so, 
but may wc not als*> rcrot^nise in iliis labour of his oM age a 
wrnkmrd manifcstatiun of tlic same impulse which was to have 
pnKhirril the 'Critias'? 

It is i-lear, at all events, that Plato at difTerent times propose*! 
to himself two problems, which he lins nowhere completely 
worked out. 1. The definition of the philosopher, which is 
'promi«e<l togrther with those of the Sophist and statesman, 
thoug;}! siimc hrsltatinn on Oils piiint is nftprwariU esprrsset) ; * 
aihI '2. The di-tailcd amtunt iif t]ie workings nf thp idrni state.f 
Plato's ' ininil. thereiore, was still Imtkinfj furwanls whi-u !ti: 
activity was broken. Neitlier his metaphysical nor; his moral 
speculations had attained their final form. We have his physical 
tlie«>rv, however, pmliahlv complete. 

The diflicuUies of the 'Tiiiia'us' are proverbial. Tliry are 
really far p-n-ater than Oiosr of the ' Parmeiiides,' which rcfjuire 
for tbeir sulutiuji, when Plato's position is once clearly known, 
only a continued effort of very close attention. But in ihr 
^Tima'ns' there is a blending of dialectical philosophy wltli a 
half-mytludogical, half-seicntific theory' of natun-, which it is a 
liard matter to unravel. ' Dr. Whewell has suceeeiled in giving- a 
clear and popular ai.'Count of a dialo[rue fmiii thv elutridation of 
which many scholars would shrink. This is, periiaps, tlie happiest 
of his ]>erforniances in these volumes. The intrcKluction, which 
want of spec nloiic prevents us fcora quoting-, is very inatroctive, 
and adinirablv clear. 

Wv ate jjind to be able tlius to * praise in departing' from Dr. 
VVhewelTs iMKik. We have no wish to depreciate a work which 
will be most valuable in ea:citing. and, in a measure, satisfying, 
the curiosity of tlie Knglish public on the tpicstions, What di<l 
Plato sjiy? and, What did Iw mi-anV — a work from which the 
most advanced Platonic scliolar may lenrn something. Only it 
is suri'ly matter for regret that an undertiking of so much 
pnnnise sliould have been allowed to suffer in its execution 
through occasional mistakes of scholarship, through a pie<e- 
meal mode of treatment which was unnecessary, and through an 
apparent unwillingness to trace the subtle gradations of the 
development of a most subtle and evirr-growing mind. 

• •9opb.*p..2l7. S^nrrl^t w^AiTtnir, fikUaixx'. ih. f. 'iM. Thp fiiv ^iXi- 
rr mkvTtmhT awifryal'MtToi VM Ko) flk*- fiA^tro^r. 



A fe 



n 



544 



The Platonic Dialoffna. 



A few word* may be fulded in roodaaion on modem Platnnism, 
wllich has nt difTerent periiids l»pcome the ally nf tileratDn* nnd 
artf of romantic fricndshius, of ' immutable ' systems of molality, 
of Idealixin^ Divinity, of revolutionary schemet of goveinmoEit, 
and of n.n anti-snrial communism. Iji eachcaacouly a {x%giaent 
of Plato's real meaninj; has been retained, liitherhis poetic sym- 
bolism has I)rrn trcatcU ns if it were the substance ot his ihougbl, 
or that whieh lie descriett as tlic distant goal of liis forward 
endeavour has been isolatnl, and made the starting-point ot % 
mystieal and abstrart Ir^ic ; or liis resolution of the anpanM 
fixity of the objects of sense has been turned to the denial of ihe 
reiililv of materia] substances ; or a single feature of lus imagioftiy 
slate has been made the basis of an octunl attempt to rrconstrud 
society. Uy such means there is obtained only a partial ami dis- 
tortwi Image of the Socratic inspiration and tlie PJatonic faith : 
whtcli must be undersbtml in themselves and as a whole, in order 
to become really fruitful. Vet even when not fully comprehended, 
tlie influence of these writings has been powerful. In the Afteenth 
century, when the Florentine Academv under Marsiglio Ficino 
was esteemed the brightest point in die galaxy of intollccttial 
li^ht, (lie 'New Philosophy, tliough tinf^ed with Neo-plalonlc 
fancies, was a (^rmi help to the world in tlirowing: ufT the 
trammels of Scholnstirism ami Superstition, and, itself eottsti- 
tuling It m^w bog-inning in spfTulation, must have contributed 
lK>t a little towitrds the free exercise of ihoupht. The Medici, 
perhaps, hailed it as an inspiration congenial to the spirit of 
Italian poetry and art, and as providing fresh aliment for a 
waning faith. But there is little dotiht tltat the iutellcrtual force 
there gathered, and tlie spirit nf freedom instilled by tKe words 
of one who faa4l oj>|K>8ed the strength of mind to durainanl 
beliefs, cannot hare been lost tu other countries and succeeding 
gffnerations. 

Tlie revival of Platonic studies has also been a marknl 
feature of our own age ; and at last it is not merely Plato's 
tloctrine of Ideas, or his proof of immortality, that we nrc 
studying, but Plato himsi^lf. It is true that these studies 
hare grown up under the shadow of modern philoiiophv. and 
tlic interpretation of Pl.ito and the estimate formcHl of fats 
contemporaries havo been coloured by the different phosi-'S of 
tmnsrendcntalism and eclecticiam, Tlie light which ideal 
thinkers n'flect on Uielr great prototv]>r has liccn mistaken for 
liis own. llut there have not been wanting rrtties who have 
the effort t<( si'c Platn simply in himself, and 
Greek thought and to his own age. llie 



4 



successfully inmle 
in bis relation to 



4 



4 



amia 




Ths Phtonic Dialo^mi, 



a45 



Ami»blp Van Hciisdc * wns pmbfibly one of th<* first wlio 
(lid so. Even Mr. Grotc cun lisnil)- lx> dissatisfied with the 
tocRtmpDt which the 'Soj^sts' receivnl from liim. Indi- 
cations are already visible Uiat the Jnlcn^st fidt in dti* subject 
ammig«t our uwn countrymen is no longer confiiiod to a few. It 
is, dicrcforc, natural to ask wb.it may be expected to bi* ilie 
effect of an increase of Pinto's inHucncc on education and litera- 
tare at the present day. The must obvious elements of tliis 
intluenec are the scattered thau<^ht9, ' modernisms ' as tbey bare 
been sometimes called, wlueh are c(|ually intelligible to every 
time, aiid often .-ulmitof an immediati' appltc-ition to our own <:ir~ 
4mmsttacc£. 'I'hc description of the scepticism resultinj* fmm 
the rush and inconsidcr.ite nse of dialectic, as the state of one 
who hns liceii lirou.t^lit up ns a supposititious cliild, and discovers 
that those whom he ha* enlh-d Ins |iarcnts are rwrt rrjitly s«>, 
before he has found tlioae who are;t tlie re|M'-ati'd warning tlial 
controversy, as such, leads only to die hatred of inquiry, and 
desjiair of tmih ; % the humorous description of this wonl-fcncing, 
reminding one of Squire Kalpho's account of I<^ic, — 

* TluN pagan heathenish invcntjcm 
Is good for nothing but contcction,' S 

the satire directed agiunst a mctho<l which substitates tJie impu- 
tation of inconsistency in opponents iur a real cxaminatiim of 
|}ic matter in band ; {] the observation that in the nature of tbin;^ 
tltc ideal must ever be mure perfect than tin- actiialjlf the 
analysts of the ridiculous :** — the&(>, and nunibirrless siniihir hints, 
ratmrit but suB:^;est useful thoughts. The person of S<m rates is 
another unfailing source of iiitcreat ; although we have not in 
Plato the literal faithfulness of BoswcH-ApoUodorus, who, for 
tfarVR years at Icaiit, took daily note of evervtliing which 
Snerates said and did.ft Kveu the superfieiul study of Plat}> is 
of real value, ''llie iuiagc of our highest natural powers in tlieir 
freshest vigour,' * the unattainable grace of tho prirno of man- 
hood,' is to be seen there as it i* not elsewhere, even in classic 
literature. The mind which has only slightly tasted of them 
oust be raised and purified by great thoughts and beautiial 
Imaginatitms, expresseil in the most [lerfect laiigtiagc, 

]Iut the essr-ntial interest of Plato lies in this, that in his 
works we have clearly presented to ns tlai first cumjilcle niKl 
kamiDnioos impress of philosophy npon the human mind, llic 



• ' Iniiis IlstODko.* hrjAtn, iS4S. 
I • VhxA.: p. 9i>. * ThwDt..' p. 1(18. 
\[ ' lt<-|>.,* 454. ■ ThoDt.,' p. 164. 
•* • Phikb.; p. 48. 



t ' Rpp.,' p. MB. 
S 'TluM,' p. I.W. ■ Urtiiiltrtts.' 
T ' Iltp.; p. 473. 
1* 'Sytnp./ p. 17'i. 



true 



346 



7%c PhtmicDiahymt. 



I 



tme elemenu of scientiiic metLod are tfaeie — hoc scpniatc, bat 
bleaded ; ideal anticipation followed br IndortiTc VFrification ; 
aaaiofj and brpotlicw pointin;:: the m*y to truth, bat not sUrk- 
cnioK ibe wemnh for it. The field of observation has been 
wotulcrfully enlarged since Platu'* tiioe ; but thoo^b tlw? cootmlaf 
(»r exjiL-rience aie tlifit-it-nt, the spirit in h hirh all inquirr should 
be conducted i« the same. There is a lesson which the world 
has not eshanited Tct, in his tmion, or ratbrr identifusktlna 
of relii^ton with science ; in the pursuit of knowledge l»»r its 
nirn sake considered as a reli^ous ilutv ; and in the belief 
rppeatedlj expressed and implied thruugfauat in the absulDle 
fTiKMlness of the Sopreme Beii^, the iilea of W'hojn phUtsophT 
approarheSf bat cannot wboUj grasp. I'lato never lasts sight of 
the admission that '' there are mure things in heaven and earth 
than are dreamt of in liis philosophy ; ' but for this y^ nsuua he 
is ever striving to test thf^ realitr of his dream. His thoaghta 
air never Inst in mjstictsnL, nor will ho suffer them to be bouim ^_ 
within the limits of what is known positively, as by a sun of ^M 
Bite. The difficnltr which haunted him, that of liiidgiii^ over ^^ 
the chasm between idea ami fart, is panllri to many djfiictilties 
in our unn >i*x. Atal if the human min<l, after passing forth 
out of the sphere prescril»d bv .Socrates — after * tneasuritig the 
earth and spanning tlie hmren' (Plat. ^TlirarC* pL 173), and 
briib^ing all things in the sensible nntverse within the reach of 
human knowledge and power — ^bas now come fall circle, and is 
again seeking to read in the * large letters,' not a( an itnaginaiy 
(jfwik communitT, but of human histnrv, the laws which the 
Creator has impcvssiil on his rn-Atanr man ; if imluctive sciefx^, 
afiet tnrersing the 6i-ld of Nature, i^ turning inwards, anl falters 
in the application to a new subject-matter of the ' cToss-questMO- 
ing ' metbixl which has so br been employed on things eixtrmal 
b* the mini), is it nnrewsaoablc to hupe that the truly iodue" 
tjre uethud ol' Platu, whoce doepest intuititius are ever accom* 
panietl wiUi die apjiral to canactousoess and experience, may 
aSbcd a pretiminarv trainii^ which even the gtrmlest minds cam 
hardly di^icnse with in endeavooriag to place the scieoce o( 
human nature on a stuv fooudaiion ? What if it should be foaod 
that I^ato'a i^iilaao{^y in its difierent aspects is a true epstnmc 
of the mental progr aa of the race ; that as his ideal thfttry is n 
sort of prophecy which his dialectical eoei^y ts ever striTing bi 
foliil, M> £uth is the mystic anticipatioD of maoo. and muoo hot 
the gradual Tcrifiraij<m of faith ; while, as Jeremy Tavlor 
■ Faidi roost rvrr take someihiog into her heart which 
caoaot take into her ejaV 

The fTirirtian is indeed the recipient of a fiu- deeper 



I 



t 




771* Platonic Dialogue*. 



347 



limn Plato knew, lliprc was a vt^il upcm tlii' heurt of the 
beaUtc'41 world which has l«!cn rt*inov«I. On the oilier hami, 
«tornAl farts exprci«o a mort; |Miwrrful iniluence now tliat tljev 
arc Ix-'ttcr known. That liillucncc niav be partly coirective and 
partly ItliiulJii^. lint neither the prii-eless possession of a holier 
faith, nor the exlfudcil ran^e of <mr nluervaiion, ean make less 
interc&tint; or loss instructive ttj us tlie speclarle of human intel- 
ligence n>it»cinus]y k"'W'02 into jwrfect bi*autv. The pure Io*-e 
«r truth (' tlian which nothing is more delightful to iiivestisate, 
or more beautiful to contemplate, when found'*), which Plato 
made the rule of his life, may l»e an example to us in times of 
iiLtellectual p^Tplexity. His belief in God and iinniorLdity mav 
even now bi- a sup|iort to faith. The delii;ht of reading him is 
that of diinking from a living fountain. He has objected to all 
written composition tlmt It must fall dead, in comparison of that 
oral teaching wliich is adapted t<i create new th<JOghts in tlic 
spirit of <me loved and known. He seems to have bueu up- 
pn^ssed, in WTiting, with something of Goethe's fwling — 

' Moiu Liod ertoDt dor mibekauutcn Mosgo ;' 
but he has provided lliat his own works should bc-He his fore- 
boding, and be the exception to prove his rule. So long as dirre 
lA a mind devotat to classical studies, in whiclt the faculti4'!t of 
reflection and imagination are united in any <U'gree of iHjwtT, so 
long his written converse will retain its creative forc<*, generating 
and preserving, in the soul of a friend, thoughts kindrMl to his 
own. 



Art. UL — 1. The Jottmnl and Corr«fpond(rnce of WiUiani Lord 
AHckland. By tiie Right Hon. and Right Kcv. the Bishop of 
Il.ith and Wefls. V.)Is. HI. and IV. 1802. 

2. The Prirattf rHarij vf liichard Duke of Buckinyhiim and 
Ckamlos. lu 3 Vols. *1S62. 

THK class of memoirs to whiih our attention will rhieily l>e 
directed in this article diflers very widely from those which 
are known as illustrating the manners rather than the politics 
of French or German f'fiurts. iniis difference is b